


The Prince In Exile

by libertyelyot



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Come on, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kinky at some point no doubt, So emotional baby, You Know You WANT To, angst central - Freeform, hiding out in a sex dungeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:56:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 75,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6211747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libertyelyot/pseuds/libertyelyot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to MY ONLY HOPE. But is there any hope for Hux and Marillia?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, and I've no real idea where I'm going with it, but I'm going to enjoy writing it anyway. I hope you'll enjoy the read, despite (or because of...) the very angsty opening.

“Kirin,” I said, taking the datapad from his hands and muting it. “I think we’re going to have to move again.”

“But why?” His protest was loud and immediate. He kicked the sofa and drove his small fist into the cushions. “I like it here. It’s my best place that we’ve ever lived.”

I switched off my own screen, unable to look at any more of the news footage rolling across it.

“Really?” I said, trying a smile. “You like living in the middle of a swamp?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “It’s cool. All my friends are jealous, especially when I told them about the snappers.”

“Aren’t you scared of the snappers?” I asked. He was. For the first six weeks of living here he’d clung to me at night, crying with fear that they might somehow climb up the spiked stilts the house stood on and get in.

“No,” he said stubbornly. “I like them.”

I gave him his datapad back.

“OK,” I said. “It’s not definite. We might be able to stay. I’ll have to see.”

I sucked at my lower lip, watching his small fingers chase pixellated enemies across the screen, his eyes fastened to it with invisible glue. Green eyes. Red hair. Freckles. Skin like milk.

My son had inherited nothing from me except a total fascination with numbers. Even that could well have come from his…

I went over to the window and looked out. I wouldn’t be too sorry to leave this house. I’d chosen it for strategic reasons. If we were going to stop running, I needed to be somewhere I felt safe, and this place was perfect in its remoteness. Any visitors could be seen approaching along the rickety walkway from a distance. The only other way to approach was by boat, which risked a painful experience at the teeth of the aforementioned snappers.

We’d moved eight times in five years.

Our first house – where Kirin was born – was nothing more than a shack on the outskirts of a dubious city on a dubious planet in the Franian Belt. We hadn’t been able to afford anything better until Tessia’s waitressing job earned enough to buy us some comms gear. After that, I’d been able to set up as a freelance coder. By the time Kirin was weaned, I was able to afford a better place for us all, and we hopped to the next, less disreputable planet.

We had to move anyway. Tessia had heard some mutterings. Bounty hunters in town, questions being asked.

Every so often, the same rumours would resurface in each different place. Every time, we moved again. Back in those days, I used to scour the news outlets for information about my home galaxy, and especially about the First Order. Day after day, week after week, there would be nothing, until I realised that the Republic had put an embargo on any mention of them.

 

If things changed, I wouldn’t know. Half-crazed with this knowledge, I contemplated ways of getting back there, just to find out what was going on, just to know if he was still alive, or if the First Order was still extant. Tessia always talked me round, always pointed to Kirin and asked me what I wanted for him.

All the same, it was a hard time, and I almost cracked more often than I care to recall.

Our closest shave came when Kirin was about eighteen months old and just starting to form understandable phrases. I took him to the play park near our apartment for a breath of air. I held his hand as he climbed up and jumped off some wooden mushrooms. My mind was on some tricky coding I’d been working on and I wasn’t really paying much attention until Kirin stood on top of the tallest mushroom and pointed.

“A man.”

I followed his finger and saw a stranger, large and burly, wrapped in a cloak, approaching us from the swing set.

“Who man, mummy?” said Kirin, following up with something I didn’t understand.

“He’s a good talker for his age,” said the man, stopping beside us.

I was instantly on my guard. I picked Kirin up and headed for the gate, but the man was in our path and he didn’t stand aside.

“Marillia Rome?” he said.

I stopped breathing.

“Let us pass,” I said, recovering enough to cough out the words.

“Just a quick word,” said the man. “I have a client who’s very anxious to know where you are. A private client, nothing sinister. Not the First Order, or anything like that – though I hear they’re interested in a friend of yours. Theft of a tie-fighter. Ring any bells?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Now, let me pass or I’ll call law enforcement.”

“But won’t that be a bit tricky when they ask to see your papers?” said the man with a smile. “Come on, Ms Rome. Why don’t you come with me. You can’t run forever.”

“Let me pass.”

“My client only wants to make sure that you’re safe,” said the man. “You and the child.”

“Get out of my way.”

He pulled a gun out of his cloak. Bounty hunters round here always wore those cloaks, for that exact purpose. It was almost comical; people saw them coming and avoided them accordingly. Why hadn’t I been paying more attention?

The sight of the gun propelled me into panic. I put Kirin down and nudged him behind me. He wanted to run over to the swings – I had to hold his hand very tightly.

“Your client’s OK with your pulling a gun on the people he wants to keep safe, is he?” I asked, as levelly as I could.

“He’s OK with me doing whatever it takes to get you back to him,” was the calm reply.

We stared at each other, in a silent stand-off, until all my lucky days came at once, in the form of a law enforcement vehicle screaming up at the park gates.

“Shit!” hissed the bounty hunter, as a quartet of officers leapt out and headed straight for us. He turned his gun on them, firing an indiscriminate round before taking to his heels, vaulting over the fence and disappearing, the cops hot on his heels.

None of them stuck around to ask my opinion. I picked up Kirin and ran.

We moved again the next day.

I told Tessia that night that I’d been close to putting up my hands and saying, “Yes, all right then, take us back to him”. The way I’d left him haunted me. It was one of the shadows that hung over me at all times, the other being Hux himself.

“Sooner or later he’ll get to us,” I said. “It’s inevitable.”

“And you’d be happy to live that life, would you?” she replied, pouring me another drink. “Don’t you like being free?”

“Of course I do, but he…”

“He’d clip your wings, Marillia. You’d never be free again. You’d be his little caged bird.” She sighed. “Believe me, I understand the pull he has. I used to think he’d only have to snap his fingers… But not any more. I know it’s hard, but it’ll pass. You’ll get over him. And you have Kirin to think of now.”

“I know. But I made vows to him…”

“They were never formalised. Forget it. Forget him. Live your life.”

Lying awake that night, I thought I’d never be able to take her advice, but a month or so later something happened that made it much, much easier.

We were eating supper in the market square - Tessia, Kirin and I - in front of a giant screen beaming interstellar news footage from across the five nearest galaxies.

I was wiping sauce from Kirin’s face (and his hair, and his ears, and lord knows where else) when Tessia gave a strangled cry, choking on her seafood.

“What the fuck? Oh no, no, no.”

I looked up at the muted screen. Beams of white heat stretched across some other skies, heading towards a cluster of planets.

“Oh shit, is this happening now?” I said. “Is this real? Where is it?”

“Don’t you know?” said Tessia, turning to me with agony in her eyes.

The realisation hit me before the ticker on the bottom of the screen could update. I covered my mouth, my stomach boiling with nauseated horror.

_THE HOSNIAN SYSTEM HAS BEEN DESTROYED_ said the ticker. _ALL SYSTEM PLANETS, INCLUDING HOSNIAN PRIME, BASE OF THE NEW REPUBLICAN GOVERNMENT, WERE WIPED OUT BY AN INTENSIVE FIRE CANNON BLAST. RESPONSIBILITY HAS BEEN CLAIMED BY AN ORGANISATION CALLED THE FIRST ORDER. THEY SENT THIS FOOTAGE TO ALL NEWS OUTLETS EARLIER TODAY._

The exploding planets were replaced by a film depicting the parade ground at Starkiller Base. Instantly I was there again, freezing to death with my work colleagues, listening to Hux raging on about how the First Order were going to whoop everybody’s ass. And there he was, on the screen, as unrepentant as it was possible to get. I couldn’t look at him.

I crawled under the table and threw up.

“How do you feel now?” asked Tessia, once we were home and Kirin in bed.

“He’s dead to me,” I said. “Dead to me. Dead.”

But that wasn’t all. In a way, I felt dead to myself. I’d provided intelligence that had caused the Resistance to believe Starkiller had been abandoned. I could have prevented all those millions of deaths, all that wanton destruction. Blood was on my hands.

And in another way, too. If I’d stayed with Hux, perhaps I could have had some influence in time. Perhaps I could have changed him. Instead, he was likely to be embittered and angry, channelling all his disappointments into the First Order and its quest for ultimate power. If he’d ever had any pity in his heart, I’d driven it out.

Tessia wouldn’t have it when I raised these issues, refused to listen to me, put her hands on her ears and said lalala.

It didn’t prevent me from sinking into a pit of depression. Only Kirin kept me putting one foot in front of the other. Still the rumours of bounty hunters followed us like a persistent swarm of flies, but now I felt that I would beg them to shoot me next time.

This dark period might have lasted for the rest of my life, if we hadn’t had the news, about a year later, of the end of the First Order.

I watched that rolling bulletin obsessively and without sleep, searching for information about what had become of Hux. At first, everything was about Kylo Ren and how he’d switched allegiances to save the day, hurrah, etc. etc. There were lots of clips of air battles and explosions. Should I assume that Hux had been killed in one of them?

No, it seemed I should not. At length, three days into the coverage, there was footage of him, handcuffed and flanked by a crowd of security guards, being led – dragged, really – out of some hidden bunker in the Unknown Regions. He looked utterly deranged and had scratches all over his face. Just for a second, I wanted to run to him and take him away from it all.

Just for a second.

After all, he had earned all this.

Then there were show trials, but Hux was judged unfit to plead. He was incarcerated in a psychiatric institution on some long-forsaken rock at the outer edge of civilisation. There he would stay, probably forever, unless he recovered his sanity, in which case he would be transferred to some other long-forsaken rock at the outer edge of civilisation.

I can’t deny that I cried for him that night, and for many nights afterwards. I felt the insult my tears offered to the victims of the Hosnian System, but I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t bear to think of how different it might have been.

Would it have been different, if I’d stayed with him?

I could never know – but what I could do was make a better life for his son. It was important to focus on this, as I struggled forward, and try to forget the rest of it.

With the collapse of the First Order, it was once again safe to return to my home galaxy. Together with Tessia – also devastated by those nightmarish images of Hux we had seen over and over on the newsreels – we settled on Zyron, and I got a teaching job back at the Institute. I was an ‘official’ person again, with papers and a social security number. The interruption to my life was finally over.

Or so I thought.

We’d only been on Zyron a few weeks when I had an unexpected – and unwanted – visitor.

Kirin was three, playing in the front yard sandpit while I sat under a sun umbrella marking student papers. It was the first weekend of summer and, for the first time since I was a child, everything felt almost as it should. Tessia was out with her new boyfriend, a doctor at the Institute hospital, and I was going to take Kirin to the lake later.

The lake trip never happened, though, because an elderly woman peered over the fence and burst into instant and passionate tears.

“What the…hello? Are you all right?”

I opened the gate and went to her. Her hands were over her face as she sobbed, her shoulders shaking fit to rattle her bones.

“Come in a moment,” I said, taking her elbow and guiding her up the path. “I’ll get you a drink of something. Is there someone I can call?”

It wasn’t until she was sitting in my kitchen with a cup of soothing cambril tea in front of her that she took her hands away from her face and looked at me with something like hatred.

“No,” she said. “There’s nobody you can call.”

I nearly blacked out.

I ran outside and collected Kirin. “Time for your nap, darling.”

“No!” he shouted. “Don’t want one. I’m too old for naps now!”

“Well, just play with your Bixbricks, then,” I suggested, parking him on his playmat and shutting the door. “See if you can make me a bigger spaceport than the one you did yesterday.” He kicked it a few times, but didn’t come out, apparently finding some interest in the challenge I’d set him.

“He’s so like his father,” said Hux’s mother, as I returned to the kitchen.

“Well, he looks like him,” I said coldly. “But he won’t grow up to be anything like him. How did you find me? I’ve barely been here six weeks.”

She pointed at the golden choker, still intact after all this time.

“Tracker,” she said. “Wil had the details sent to me, once he knew how things were going to go.”

There was a silence. I had so many questions, but I didn’t want her here. If I asked questions, I was inviting her to stay.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how he is?” she said.

That was exactly what I’d wanted to ask. I didn’t answer, but I knew she was going to keep talking anyway.

“He’s very unwell, Marillia.” I bristled at her presumptuous use of my name, but the sadness of her words overrode my offence. I almost couldn’t listen. I turned to the door, wanting to run away from this, take Kirin and hide from her. “He’s only alive because they feed him through a tube. He won’t eat otherwise. I visit him every week, but he doesn’t know me.” She swallowed back more tears. “He doesn’t even look at me.”

I swallowed some tears of my own. This was unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wish…” I didn’t know what I wished. I wished he’d never had her for a mother, for one, but stating it was hardly going to help matters.

“He was never a well-built boy,” she said. “But there’s barely anything of him now. His doctors thought…” She raised her eyes to me, fighting her natural hostility, trying to keep it down.

“What?” I whispered.

“If you were to go and see him,” she said. “Take him some pictures of the boy. It might help.”

Oh lord, what was I to say to this?

“I don’t know,” I hesitated.

“Did you ever really care for him?” she snarled, and then I saw red.

“Did _you_?” I cried. “Or do you think it’s normal to raise a child the way you did? To become a cold-blooded mass-murderer? Because I can tell you now, my son is not going to have that life. Yes, he’s like Wil in so many ways. He’s very bright, he’s curious, he has a fierce temper and a wilful streak a mile wide, and he cries when he’s scared or frustrated, and I’m not going to suppress or crush _any_ of it, the way you did with Wil. _Any_ of it. Do you understand? Because you and your husband ruined that child – I don’t know why. Perhaps your own childhoods were no better. But Kirin is mine, and I swear he will be the good, decent, _happy_ man Wil never had the chance to be.”

Mother Hux said nothing. She sipped at her tea, then pushed it aside.

“I can see I’m wasting my time here,” she said. “If you’d be so good as to let me use your bathroom, I’ll be on my way.”

Slightly surprised at this reprieve, I pointed her in the right direction and paced around the room, trying my best to simmer down. The combination of rage and regret and terrible, terrible sadness for Hux was too potent to be overcome, though, and I had to work hard.

So hard that it didn’t occur to me to wonder why Hux’s mother was taking such a long time in the bathroom. Picking up the teacup and observing that it had gone cold, I was suddenly stung with a horrible possibility.

I ran to the bathroom and hammered on the door. No reply. Kirin’s bedroom door was open, and so was the back door…

Law Enforcement found them at Zyron’s biggest spaceport, about an hour later. Mrs Hux had some fake papers for Kirin, but the border officials hadn’t fallen for it, thankfully. She escaped with her accomplices, while my son was restored to me.

Despite this, I tried to visit Hux at the psychiatric facility, but I was told that only family members could be admitted. I told them about Kirin, but they asked for legal proof, and of course, I had none.

We moved again. I didn’t want to leave Zyron and the excellent job I had there, but I couldn’t settle after that. Tessia stayed on with her doctor, whom she has since married.

Kirin and I went to Kusa B and found our stilt-mounted swamp shack, on the other side of the planet from the Zahna Falls. I freelanced again, so I could spend every waking minute with Kirin, except when he was at the little elementary school in the nearest town. I looked out of the window at the snappers and failed to be scared by them. I’d had much scarier things than them to contend with.

Kirin gave a whoop of triumph.

“I’m on the next level, mummy. It’s the top level.”

“That’s good,” I murmured, but my mind was on the news report I’d seen earlier.

_Former First Order General Hux was declared fit to plead by psychiatrists at the Demron Facility earlier this week. During shuttle transfer to the High Security Unit on Rubikus Prime, where he was to be held until trial, he managed to commandeer an escape pod and is thought to be somewhere in the north-eastern quadrant of the galaxy. You are advised not to approach him if seen, as he is armed and considered to be extremely dangerous. Please report any sightings to this number._

I tugged at the choker. Would it make any difference if we moved anyway?

Probably not.


	2. Chapter 2

“But you’re OK? Promise me.”

“We’re fine,” I sighed. “You don’t need to worry about us. Now go and eat dinner with your husband.”

“I will. Kiss Kirin for me.”

Tessia logged off, and I put aside my datapad.

Five days had passed since the news of Hux’s escape. He hadn’t been recaptured. Tessia had been contacting me every day, sometimes twice a day, rather than her more usual once a week, just to make sure we were safe. She was the only one who knew my link to Hux – I had not mentioned it to another soul, in all these five years. When people asked about Kirin’s father, I told them he was dead.

When Kirin asked about his father – well, it hadn’t happened yet. I wasn’t sure what I’d say when it did.

The evening was humid and noisy with the shrill mating cries of insects. I went out on to the deck, spritzing myself to cool off. From Kirin’s half-open window came the tingling chimes of his lullaby night-light. I peeked in, but he was already asleep.

I sat on the swing seat and rocked myself to and fro. I hadn’t done anything about moving, because there didn’t seem to be much point. Hux was still at large, but presumably not for much longer – how long could one man with no friends or resources remain hidden?

There was a creak from the other side of the building. I stood up, heart in mouth. Who or what was on the walkway? I dashed back into the house, ready to grab Kirin and jump into the motorboat. Through the front window I could just make out a pair of grey figures in the dusk. Both of them wore uniform caps, with bags strapped across their chests. They were officials of some kind – civil servants.

I waited until they reached the door, opening it before they could knock.

“What is it?” I said.

“Marillia Rome?”

“Yes.”

“May we come in, ma’am?”

“ID?”

One of them held up a badge. They were from Republican Galactic Security.

“OK then. But not for long. There’s a sleeping child…”

They nodded and followed me quietly into the house.

“This is a long way off the beaten track,” said one of them, a woman, conversationally.

“We don’t mind,” I said, offering them seats.

“I guess it’s good if you want peace and quiet,” said her male colleague.

“Or you want to hide,” suggested the female, arching her eyebrows.

“I’m not hiding,” I said. “But I’m wondering why you’re here.”

“We’ve just been having a little tidy up in the office,” said the female. “Going through a few anomalies, and your record came up.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she continued. “And it’s a bit strange, but there’s a gap in it. Quite a few years unaccounted for.”

“I went through all this when I got the lectureship on Zyron. You should contact the office there. Don’t you talk to each other?”

“Indeed we do,” said the man. “They mentioned that you’d gone out of the galaxy for a while, after graduating from the Institute.”

“That’s right,” I said. “I went to the Franian Belt and freelanced for a few years.”

“Odd choice,” said the woman. “The Franian Belt. Not the traditional career move for somebody who graduated from an elite academic establishment with top honours.”

“No,” I said, trying my level best not to sound flustered. “Not really. But I was tired – burnt out. I needed a bit of space to get my head together.”

“Understandable,” said the man. “I hear there’s a lot of pressure on the students at Zyron. I’ve met a few in my time. In fact, I think we have a mutual friend. Name of…Katari?”

I clenched my fingers tight.

“Possibly,” I said, poker-faced. “I met a lot of people there.”

“She remembers you very well,” said the female. “She remembers introducing you to a Professor Tarkei.”

My chest was burning with panic. I wasn’t going to be able to maintain my composure for much longer.

Kirin appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

“I can’t sleep.” He looked uncertainly at our visitors. “Who are they?”

“OK, you can get out now,” I said to them, going over to the door and opening it. “You’ve had all the time I can spare, and I can’t have you waking up my son. Goodnight.”

After a long enough hesitation to preserve their dignity, the officials rose and left the house, nodding politely to me on the way out.

Just before I shut the door, the woman smiled and pointed at Kirin.

“Gorgeous hair,” she said. “Red hair and green eyes. So unusual in this galaxy, and obviously not from your side of the family. I suppose he must have inherited it from his father.” Her smile widened, but her eyes were hard and cold.

I slammed the door in her face.

“OK, Kirin,” I said, once their footsteps had creaked out of earshot. “Pack your toys. You’re going to stay with Auntie Tessia for a while.”

We left our home via the motorboat, with a silencer on the engine. The front of the house would be under observation by now, I presumed, and so would the spaceports. We took an ‘unofficial’ shuttle from an illegal drome on the outskirts of town.

“Why are we going this way?” asked Kirin, accustomed to taking the more conventional route to visit Zyron.

“It makes a change,” I said vaguely, barely able to formulate a real answer.

The authorities wanted me to help them, and perhaps I ought to co-operate. Perhaps I ought to let them use me as a trap to lure Hux to his recapture.

But I knew in my heart that I just couldn’t.

So we shared the journey with a ragbag of fugitives and traffickers, huddling in our corner bunk and speaking to nobody, until we reached Zyron.

After dropping Kirin with Tessia, I returned to Kusa B in the same junkheap. Without Kirin, I was fairer game for lecherous creeps and I had to make sure my hand was on the knife in my boot at all times. A brothelkeeper from Maja Minor came to my aid, and we formed a friendship of convenience, as the only women on board.

Back on Kusa B, she offered to give me a lift to Millarat, the beachfront town where her brothel was located. As it happened, I knew Millarat well – my grandparents had owned a beach hut there. Curious to see if it still existed, since it would make the ideal hideout, I took her up on her offer.

“If you like,” she said, as I climbed on to the pillion of her jetbike, “I can probably find a place for you. You’ve got a kind of look some of my guys like – fresh, innocent maybe.”

I laughed. “I’m definitely not that. And I don’t think the brothel life would suit me. But thanks anyway.”

We roared off, away from the swamp city, heading for the shore.

Millarat was quiet, almost closed for the winter. The only signs of life came from the fishing quay, where vessels moored and unmoored in a constant stream, providing my new friend with her off-season customers.

“You’re welcome to come up for a drink,” she said, as we made our goodbyes. “Any time. I’m always here, pretty much.”

“I will,” I promised. “If I stay. I’m not sure what my plans are yet.”

I turned and set off along the sands. My backpack was heavy, containing everything I thought I might need to survive a week or two off the beaten track. A few clothes, some cooking utensils, a camping stove, a bedroll, some navigation tools, some weapons. But no tech. Nothing the security services could use to trace me.

As I tramped closer to where I remembered the hut to be, I tried to think about what I was doing here, but it wasn’t easy. I couldn’t decide whether I was trying to avoid Hux, or trying to avoid the people who were trying to catch Hux.

Arriving at a shady grove behind a secluded beach, I let a wave of nostalgia sweep over me. The hut was still there, but it was in very poor condition. The door swung off the hinges and the windows were all smashed out. The floors were rotten and the ceilings mouldy. Part of the roof had come off.

Refusing to concede defeat, I used the remaining daylight to fix a length of tarp I’d brought with me over the holey bits of the roof. I collected tree boughs and laid them on the filthy floor, then I cooked a tin of soup on the camping stove, laid out my bedroll and tried to settle for the night.

I didn’t sleep at all. It was cold and I was terrified. I lay and listened to the waves crash a few hundred yards away from me, hour after hour. I ached for Kirin. We had never been apart in all these five years. How would I know if he was upset or ill?

This was crazy. Tomorrow I’d give up and go back home. It wasn’t my fault Hux had ruined his life, and he couldn’t keep running forever. Just like I couldn’t.

But the next day was bright and sunny, and I found the strength to make some repairs on the hut. I went into town and bought shutters for the windows, tools to fix the door. I swept the floor and laid down some cheap matting. It still wasn’t too homely, but it was habitable now, and it gave me space to think. I could pretend I was on a kind of retreat holiday, if I closed off the parts of my mind given over to fear and exhaustion.

The fish came almost up to the shore on this part of the coast; I was able to patch up some discarded nets I’d found at the quay and use them to catch a supper haul. I practised survival skills, cutting wood, climbing trees to scope out the area, standing in clearings and trying to remember the fighting skills I’d learned at the First Order training camp, aiming my battered thirdhand gun and pretending to fire at the birds. I was quite pleased with myself, sitting over my camping stove, making a very creditable fish stew, with my candles burning and my bedroll washed and dried for the night.

On my fourth day in the hut, I finally admitted the truth to myself.

I was waiting for Hux.

I needed to see him – to talk to him – to be at peace with the part of myself that had always wanted to go back to him. A sense of unfinished business had hung over for me for the last five years, giving me a refugee mentality that prevented me from putting down any permanent roots in my life.

I had been waiting for him all this time.

I breakfasted on a handful of foraged nuts and a brew of root tea sweetened with honey and set off into the woodland to find firewood.

I worked vigorously, keen to keep the cold at bay, my breath emerging in steamy white puffs while my skin stung like fury. I had gloves, but they didn’t seem to make much difference after a while, and I had to take them off to handle the knife in the way I wanted anyway.

All around me, twigs cracked and animals disturbed the undergrowth, the woodland waking up to a chilly, grey-clouded morning. How much longer would I have to stay here? I put my fingers to the choker for a moment. What if he’d forgotten me? What if he’d slipped off somewhere to quietly kill himself? What if, what if, the constant refrain of my mind.

I stood up, suddenly alert. There was something off, something not quite normal in the customary sylvan cacophony. A heavier presence was nearby, treading down the thicket. The area I was in was too dense to see much beyond the end of my arm, so I stayed where I was, perfectly still, my ears straining.

If the security forces had tracked me down, they’d wait until I went back to the hut. They had no need to hunt me out here. That much was a relief, at least.

But now the full implications of Hux finding me flooded my brain. I had been so naïve. He could want revenge, he could want to kill me. He could use me to get to Kirin and take him from me.

After all, even in the fullest flush of love, he had never pretended to be anything other than utterly ruthless in the pursuit of his desires.

I held my breath and gripped tightly to the handle of my knife. There was still nothing to see, but the tramping down of undergrowth was rhythmic and inexorable now. Human footprints. If I moved, he would hear me. If I kept completely still, I stood a chance…

There was a long silence. What was he doing? Had he gone? Had he stopped to rest? I twisted my neck, moved a foot as tentatively as I could to pivot round and look behind me. Beneath my boot a twig cracked and I winced.

I put out an arm, then I screamed as my knife was knocked from my hand from nowhere. It fell, spinning to the floor while my wrist was pinioned in a calfskin-gloved grip. I barely had time to look at who had hold of me before I was hauled on to my assailant’s shoulder, my legs held down to prevent kicking, and carried to the nearest clearing.

I had seen only a tall figure in an all-enveloping fur coat and a hat with flaps pulled down over the sides of his face. His features were obscured by wild, matted hair and dried blood, but I had caught a flash of his eye, and I knew beyond doubt the identity of my captor.

I had thought he would be weakened, skeletal, somewhere on the cusp of life and death – but on the contrary, he seemed to have no trouble lugging me through the branches and brambles as if I were a bag of feathers. But then I’d heard that madness could sometimes confer a kind of superhuman strength. Perhaps this was it in action.

Still winded with shock, I was unable to cry out or speak. Instead, my body concentrated – pointlessly – on putting up a fight. For a moment, I was consumed by the irrational conviction that he was going to kill me and leave me to rot here, but I managed to dismiss it. He wouldn’t do that before getting Kirin’s location out of me, at least.

We reached a clearing.

“Please put me down,” I gasped, recovering my voice.

Surprisingly, he did, but he shoved me up against the nearest tree and proceeded to unwind a length of rope from around his waist, using it to tie my wrists together and knot the end of the rope over a low-hanging branch.

“What are you…please don’t…please let me go.”

There was a dark determination in what I could see of his face. The tangle of hair spilling out of his cap was too dirty to make out its true colour, but the week’s worth of bristle on his cheeks and chin was a red giveaway – too red in some places where blood had crusted.

He finished tethering me and stood with his hands on the branch, shadowing me, looking down with an eerie lack of expression.

“Who’s at the beach hut?” he asked suddenly, putting a hand to my throat.

I whimpered, struggling in my bonds so that they chafed my wrists.

“Nobody,” I said. “I’m alone here.”

“But you would say that,” he replied, almost to himself. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t promise it isn’t being watched,” I said. “But as far as I know, nobody knows I’m here. Nobody official anyway. I swear. I came here to get away from the security forces – I knew they’d try and use me to trap you.”

He ran a fingertip along the line of my golden choker.

“Should I believe you?” he wondered aloud.

“What are your options?” I replied.

“That,” he said, “is a very good point.”

He untied my wrists, took hold of my upper arm and set off on the path that led out of the woods.


	3. Chapter 3

Although unbound from the tree, my wrists were still tied together, so I tended to stumble a lot as Hux steered me through the wood. My hair kept getting caught on brambles too.

These irritations barely registered, however, as all I could think was: _I am with Hux. He is here. I am with him. He is not dead, or obviously mad, and he hasn’t killed me._

It wasn’t exactly happiness, but it certainly wasn’t a negative feeling either. Or maybe it was just the adrenaline talking. There was a hell of a lot of it whizzing around my system, making me fail to process the pain and discomfort I was experiencing.

The levels jolted higher as we reached the open shore and, without warning, he held a blaster to the side of my head.

My legs turned to water and my vision blackened. I whimpered some kind of incoherent plea, my lips too slack to let the words out properly.

“Don’t be stupid, Marillia, I’m not going to shoot you,” he said. “It’s a precaution, that’s all. Come on.”

He nudged me forward with his knee, so I was slightly in front of him, and we approached the beach hut. I realised he thought there might be security people waiting for him – a trap set by me, or with my connivance. I couldn’t really blame him for suspecting it, but it disappointed me all the same.

“It’s empty,” I wobbled. “It was empty when I left.”

“Let’s just see, shall we?”

He kicked open the door and shoved me inside, following cautiously, the gun still levelled. After a few seconds of peering into every corner, he lowered the gun and put it away.

My legs still shook like two columns of leaves in a high wind and I wanted to throw up. And that wasn’t all.

“I need to go out,” I said, trying to move past him to the door, but he blocked my path. “Please. I need to…you know.” I clamped my thighs together.

He sighed and led me back outside.

“Don’t watch me,” I wailed, sidling round the corner of the hut.

He stood sentry, studying the horizon.

“I’ll hear you if you try to run,” he remarked.

“I know that,” I said crossly. It wasn’t at all easy to get your trousers down with tethered wrists.

He’d been back in my life for ten minutes, and spent the entirety of that time being horrible to me. Why had I even bothered to wait for him?

I managed to relieve myself without everything going horribly wrong, but my efforts to pull my trousers up met with failure when I overbalanced and fell face-forward into a pile of dead leaves.

Hux was on the scene immediately, helping me to my feet and finishing the job I’d started. I looked away from him, tears of mortification and lord knows what else in my eyes, but once he’d fastened my waistband he cupped my face and made me look at him.

My tears began to fall unchecked, pouring out of me in a cloudburst.

He pulled me into him and held me while I cried myself out. By the time I’d finished, his fur coat was matted with my tears and snot. I felt drained and exhausted, but lighter somehow.

“Better now?” he asked gently, wiping my face with his sleeve. “Let’s go inside then.”

We returned to the beach hut and sat down, side by side, on the bedroll – which was the only place to sit. He kept his arm linked through mine, but he didn’t offer to untie me.

“I haven’t eaten in two days,” he mentioned, eyeing my half-full pan of congealed fish stew.

“Oh, well, I can heat that up for you, if you like,” I said.

“Cold is fine,” he said, reaching for the pan and my cutlery pack.

I wouldn’t have fancied it myself, but he ate it with a kind of feral relish, scooping it up to the dregs, before taking my canteen of water and draining that. I watched him in silence, still amazed by the sight of him. He looked completely unlike the man I’d known, and yet he couldn’t be anyone else. I wondered if his unkempt state bothered him, given that he’d been such a stickler for neatness and good presentation.

“Where’s my son?” he said, putting the empty pan down and turning his full attention to me.

“Kirin’s staying with friends,” I said. “He’s fine.”

“Kirin,” echoed Hux, raising an eyebrow.

“After my father.”

“Ah.”

“What would you have called him?”

He shut his eyes for a moment.

“Brendol,” he said.

“After your father,” I finished.

He reached out and touched the gold choker. I held my breath.

“Five years,” he said softly.

“I never thought…” I stammered. “I mean, I wanted to…I wanted you to…it was just such a difficult situation…”

He hushed me with a finger to my lips.

“I’m so very tired,” he said. “I can barely think.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“I think I will.”

He got hold of my wrists and wrapped the end of the rope tightly around one of his own arms, knotting us together. When he lay down, I had to lie down with him, facing him on my side. He put one leg over mine and hooked his boot behind me so I couldn’t move without disturbing him. I had no choice but to huddle close to him and rest my head in the crook of his shoulder.

“I’m not going to go anywhere,” I objected, knowing in my heart that it was useless to try and bargain a way out of my position.

“I remember thinking that before,” he said, yawning, sliding an arm under my head and wrapping it around me. “Five years ago. No, I’m not going to talk about it now. It can wait until I wake up.”

He tightened his hold on me and shut his eyes.

He was asleep within minutes, and I was wide awake, watching his chest rise and fall, small exhalations passing his lips. There was a nasty cut on his lower lip, and a longer gash along one side of his face. I wanted to put my fingers to them, but of course I couldn’t. His skin was reddened with cold, badly bruised above one eye, his hair unspeakably filthy, and he didn’t smell too delightful either, but being close to him did something to me that I couldn’t quantify or resist.

I was afraid of the feeling, and I tried to repel it by replaying images of the destruction of the Hosnian System in my head, but it all seemed so remote when he was here, physically present, him wrapped around me, me bound to him.

He was the one love of my life, damn him.

I’d avoided any other emotional entanglements, although I’d had offers, especially when I was working at the Institute. In my mind, I told myself that I didn’t need the complication. If I let a man get close to me, eventually awkward questions would be asked about Kirin’s parentage, or I’d let something slip somehow about my time with the First Order. That was what I told myself. But in reality, I didn’t want anyone else. Never mind that he was about as wrong for me as it was possible to get, I just wanted Hux.

And now he was here, and my body strongly approved, no matter what my brain thought.

He slept past noon while I tried various means to wriggle and move around so as not to get too stiff, without waking him. Eventually, I tugged too hard on the rope and he sat up with a jolt, pulling tight at my wrists so that I yelped with pain and hauled myself up on one elbow.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked, looking around him.

“Probably not long enough,” I said, noting the drugged look in his eyes.

“I can catch up later.” His eyes finished darting around the room and settled on me. “What do you do about washing around here?”

“I’ve been using bottled water from the town for my hair,” I said. “But apart from that, I wait till the sun comes out and take a swim. It makes your skin a bit salty but it’s pretty clean.”

“Freezing cold, surely.”

“I don’t stay in for long.”

He gazed at me for a while, then his lip curled upwards. I watched the cut move.

“You always could endure a lot,” he said. “All right then, let’s go swimming.”

“Your face,” I said, trying to reach up to touch his wounds, but failing when he wouldn’t slacken the rope enough. “It’ll sting.”

“I daresay it will,” he said grimly, standing and pulling me up along with him. “Come on then.”

“You want me to go in?” I asked as he drew me towards the door.

“You go where I go,” he said, pausing to grab a blanket. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Careful of the step.”

I knew the step was there perfectly well. It was my bloody grandparents’ beach hut, and I told him so.

“Really? So you know this area well?”

“Ish. Actually, not really. I haven’t been here since I was eight.”

_If things had been different,_ I thought, _we could have come here on holiday – the three of us. Teaching Kirin how to catch the fish, barbecuing them outside the hut, going for naked moonlit swims once he was asleep…_

We reached the shoreline. Hux untied my wrists and threw down the rope before pulling off his boots and socks.

His feet were in a bad state, horribly blistered and sore.

“Come on, then,” he said, impatient, shrugging off the fur coat. Underneath it he wore some kind of pale blue pyjama outfit with a number on the chest. Oh Lord, it was a prison uniform.

I stared dumbly while he pulled the top over his head, revealing a white fitted undershirt.

“Marillia,” he prompted. “Or do you want me to undress you?”

I came back to life, and removed my own boots and socks, then turned my attention to my tunic and trousers. I came to a sharp halt again when he removed his undershirt.

On his stomach was a huge white raised scar, cut into the symbol of the First Order.

“What the fuck!” I exclaimed.

He looked down, as if surprised by my surprise.

“Oh, that,” he said. “Come on. I don’t want to stand here in the cold any longer than I have to.”

“Who did that?”

He lunged at me with an impatient sigh and began unbuttoning my shirt.

“Wil! Tell me.”

“I did,” he said tersely, dropping the shirt on to the growing pile of clothes and turning his attention to my leggings.

“But why?”

He tugged my leggings down to my ankles and stood watching while I stepped out of them. The cold nipped at my skin and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Why not?” he muttered. “I did it with a broken bottle, about a week after you left, if you must know. I was rather drunk at the time.”

“Bloody hell,” I said. There didn’t seem to be any more salient response to be made.

He finished undressing and turned to face the waves. Out of the coat, I could see now how terribly thin he was, but other than that, he seemed largely undamaged. I pulled off my own underwear and stood beside him, shivering and unwilling to take the plunge.

He took my hand and waded in with me until we were knee-deep, at which point he threw himself into the biting-cold spume, dragging me along with him.

I screamed with the temperature shock, my scream turning into mad laughter, into which he joined as we twisted and flailed beneath the waves. My legs caught up with his, and when I tried to swim away, he prevented me with an arm around my waist. I splashed his face; he winced and splashed me back, then pulled me back down into the choppy waters.

Blue and shivering, we ran back to the shore. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around us both. Our teeth chattered too much for speech; we simply picked up our clothes and pelted across the sands for the relative warmth of the hut.

“I’m n-n-not doing that again,” he vowed, rubbing me briskly with the blanket on the porch. “Are you t-trying to k-ki-kill me?”

“It’s b-b-bracing,” I said. “Ssssets you up for the day.”

His face looked better, the dried blood gone, and his hair, flat against his scalp, was clean again, if salty. We’d have to tip a bottle of water over our heads at some point to wash out the salt, but not yet. Warmth was number one priority for the foreseeable future.

He bundled me into the hut and on to the bedroll, both of us still wrapped in the blanket. Thirsting for any source of heat, we clasped ourselves around each other in a tight embrace. My cold bare skin tingled, my blood bursting to painful life, although my toes and fingers were still numb. I rubbed his back compulsively, chafing my feet up and down his calves. He did much the same, his hands all over my upper torso, pressing himself into me, our combined bodies shivering in rhythm.

My face was buried between his neck and shoulder until he pulled it away by my hair and fixed his mouth on mine. Oh, how sweetly warm his breath, his tongue, his lips. My own lips came back to life, pins-and-needling as the kiss deepened. I pushed my tongue against his, feeding on him, falling back into the feeling I had missed so much. Everything else was banished from my thoughts as he angled me half on to my back, the better to bear down on me and rub his hard length between my legs.

I spread my thighs and hooked my feet behind his knees, opening myself in unambiguous invitation. He accepted, and I moaned into his mouth at the almost-forgotten feeling. He stretched me so I burned, but it was a burn I needed. Once he was fully sheathed, he held himself steady, kissing me so hard that my lips were fat and full with the blood that had drained out of them, until I bucked against him in a silent plea.

Still pale, but no longer blue, he moved inside me. I held on to his skinny back, looking for flesh amongst the bone, something to grab on to, but I had to slide my hands a long way down to find it. His jutting hips pressed down painfully on my pelvis, but I ignored it, concentrating instead on having what I never thought I’d have again. I drank it in, every thrust, every determined grunt, every tug on my hair or pinch of my nipple, every nip at my neck, every tongue-tip lick beneath my ear.

While we fucked, there was a bubble around us, made of the steam we created. Nothing and nobody could break it. Not while we fucked. And we didn’t have to think of what would happen when we weren’t fucking, not yet.

His urgent fingers found my clit and circled it. He kept his pace slow, but I could tell he was finding it hard to hold back by the twitching tension of his expression. I lay back and let myself melt into his touch; here was one part of me that was not at all numb. His fingertips gathered my juices as he kept up just the right pressure in just the right places. All at once I felt that old familiar sensation of mild panic, growing into unstoppable pleasure. My thighs trembled and my orgasm hit me for six. He thrust through it, making it bigger and brighter, kissing my face all over as I moaned out half-words that made no sense.

He held back no longer, rearing up with his hands on my shoulders and clenching his teeth as he spurted into me. That awful scar rippled, livid on his stomach. I looked away quickly, watching his face in its too-fleeting moment of ecstasy.

“Still…mine…” he whispered, curling back up beside me, our arms and legs all tangled together.

“I always was,” I replied.

I waited for him to speak again, but the next thing I heard from him was a light snore. He did have a lot of sleep to catch up on, apparently.

He hadn’t tied me up this time, and perhaps he knew he didn’t have to – what he’d done instead had renewed the broken bond between us more effectively than the strongest set of cuffs. I was brimful of post-coital tenderness, feeling as fragile as the imaginary bubble I’d placed us in. I wanted to stroke his stiffening hair and kiss the healing gash on his face.

It wasn’t until his seed was dry on my thighs that the bubble burst and more practical, less palatable, considerations began to crowd into my head. The man I’d just given myself to was a mass murderer, an intergalactically-wanted criminal, feared and loathed throughout the universe.

There was no rose-tinted happy-ever-after in our future.

He stirred in his sleep, opening one eye. Seeing me looking at him, he planted a kiss on the tip of my nose.

“Wil,” I whispered.

“Mm hmm.” He nuzzled closer, put his hand on my stomach.

“What the hell are we going to do?”

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“I’ve just woken up,” he objected with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. “Asking me if I’d like a cup of tea would be a fairer question at this point.”

“I’ll make tea. But we have to face it, Wil. We need to make some kind of plan.”

I pulled on clean underwear and my robe and set to sorting out the stove.

“I quite like this hunter-gatherer lifestyle,” he said. “It suits me much better than I ever thought it would. Nothing to worry about but food, warmth and shelter. We don’t even need warmth if we can have sex instead.”

“It’s not funny,” I said, lighting the match and turning to him.

“I know that,” he replied, somewhat coldly. “You don’t need to tell me.”

“So…?”

He ran a hand through salt-stiff, but now definitely red, hair.

“What do you suggest?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t see many options at all, beyond giving yourself up. They’re bound to catch up with you sooner or later.”

“You think I should give myself up?”

“I didn’t say that.” I put the pan on the stove. Bottled water supplies were running low. I’d have to get some more some time. “But…I mean…all those people in the Hosnian System…”

There was a long silence, until the water boiled and I poured it into the cups. I’d brought two. Even when I was packing, my subconscious had been working overtime.

“Justice should be served,” he said at length, taking the cup from me.

“Don’t you think?” I ventured, biting my lip. “And, after all, what else can we do? I doubt there’s a galaxy in the universe where you aren’t on the Most Wanted list now.”

“As it happens,” he said, “I have a plan, of sorts. But it’s a long story. Very long. I suggest we go out and catch ourselves some food first, then wash these clothes.” He indicated the pile of prison garments with distaste.

“OK. I’ll sort the fishing nets.”

“Not fish,” he said. “I noticed some jackweasels in the woods. We can catch a few of those instead.”

“What’s wrong with my fish stew?” I asked, mildly affronted, though actually I was pretty bored with it myself.

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” he said, patting my hand. “It just reminds me of Starkiller. Fish, fish, bloody fish.”

I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. It was so strange that he was here, and we were having these inconsequential conversations, as if nothing had happened and we were any normal couple.

“So,” he said, sipping at his tea. “Tell me about Kirin.”

“He’s a lot like you,” I said. “He reminds me of you all the time. And he looks like you.”

“I know that,” said Hux, with a self-satisfied smile. “My mother told me.”

“Ugh, your mother. Don’t remind me. That was a horrible, horrible day.”

“I didn’t tell her to abduct him, by the way. I didn’t think that was a very good idea at all.” He sipped some more. “I suppose he’s bright?”

“Yes, very much so. They have to work hard at school to keep him interested.”

“What sort of school?”

“Just the local village school.” I caught a breath, recalling that, in Hux’s version of Kirin’s future, he’d be at the awful Elite One already.

“Perhaps they aren’t qualified to cater to his needs,” suggested Hux.

“They’re fine,” I insisted, holding his gaze.

“I don’t mean that you should send him away,” he said, putting down his cup after one last mouthful. “I don’t mean that at all.”

“Don’t you?” I said. “That place you went to…does it even still exist?”

“I believe it does,” he said. “At least, my mother still gets junk mail soliciting for donations.”

“Well, he’s never going there,” I said.

“No,” agreed Hux. I eyed him warily.

“No?”

He wrapped the blanket closer around him, shivering for a moment.

“You asked me once if I remembered my first day at Elite One,” he said. “And I said I didn’t.”

“I remember.”

“Well, on my first day at the Demron Facility, it all came flooding back,” he said. “Absolutely flooding. I suppose the institutional ambience…the _smell_ of the place…” He shuddered again. “You said I’d blocked it out, and as it happened you were right.”

He smiled weakly. I abandoned my tea and put my arms around him, letting him rest his head on my shoulder.

This was a different man than the one I’d run away from.

Was there any point daring to hope for a future for us, though?

We dressed and went out into the woods. It took a bit of time to catch half a dozen jackweasels – Hux caught them all, his reflexes like lightning, while I staggered around and tripped over low-lying branches. In the end I had to content myself with digging up more of the local root vegetable.

We went back to the hut and Hux stripped off to skin and hang the jackweasels while I used some more of our precious, dwindling water supplies to wash his clothes. Hanging them over the porch balcony, I went back inside to find Hux wrapped in his motheaten fur coat, peeling the root veg with his knife.

“So, then,” I said, putting a pan of water on to boil. “You have a plan, you say.”

“I don’t know if I’d even call it that,” he said. “It’s an idea. It’s probably impossible to achieve, and might come to nothing even if we do achieve it. But it’s worth trying.”

“We? I’m part of your plan, then?”

“You’re part of everything,” he said.

I glowed a little, then took over the dicing of the vegetables, allowing him to give his entire attention to what he was about to tell me.

“In the last days of the First Order,” he began, “we worked very hard to establish some hope for its future. I spent all that time, after Kylo Ren deserted us, with Snoke. Together we came up with some kind of plan to ensure that our defeat would only be temporary, and the Order could rise again – a Second Order, I suppose.”

“You never did get rid of Snoke,” I remarked.

“I was months away from it…if the Resistance hadn’t forced me to put everything on hold…anyway, that’s beside the point.”

“Where is he anyway? He was never captured.”

Hux hushed me, shaking his head. “Let me come to that. I know that we arrived at a workable solution. And I know that Snoke, together with some of the other surviving generals, had every chance of making it succeed.”

“So, you think Snoke is out there rebuilding the Order?”

He nodded, impatient with my constant interruptions. “I presume so.”

“Well, have you told anyone about it? Does anyone know? I mean, that would be one heck of a plea bargain, Wil. Oh. But I suppose you’re in on this plan?”

My heart slumped. He had come here to pick everything up where it had been left off. He was here to try and persuade me and Kirin to become potential Empresses and Crown Princes of the Second Order.

Hux pressed his lips together and put his fingers to his temples.

“This is the difficulty,” he said. “A difficulty that seems insuperable, but perhaps might not be. On the day of my capture, Snoke was with me in the bunker, along with one of the younger lieutenants, a man called Ludon.”

“Oh, him!” I exclaimed. “He was that jerk who took Tessia after you…” I trailed off. Hux clearly didn’t want to be reminded of this.

“Yes, I gathered you had had dealings with him,” he said frostily.

“So, what happened in the bunker?” I muttered, feeling that it was best to move the conversation on.

“That’s just it. I’m not sure.”

I put the chopped vegetables in the pan, along with some of the jointed meat, and turned the water down to a simmer.

“Something happened,” continued Hux. “Some kind of struggle. I think – I _think_ – Snoke had worked out that I planned to overthrow him. He set Ludon on me like an attack dog, and then, when they had me on the floor, Snoke…did something…to my mind.”

“What?” I whispered, horrified. “What did he do?”

“I’m not sure, but whatever it was, it removed all trace of any memory I had relating to our future strategy. I know that there was one – I just have no idea at all what it was. If I even try to think of it, I get a burning pain in my head.” He looked at me, eyes wide with distress. “It’s just gone. And then I suppose he must have tipped off the Resistance about the whereabouts of the bunker, and they came for me. Of course, he and Ludon were long gone by then.”

“Lord,” I said. “The bastards.” Not that Hux would have hesitated to do something similar to them, I surmised. They’d just happened to get in there first. “At least they didn’t just kill you.”

“No, I think they wanted me to be caught. If the Republic had a big trophy like me to show off, they’d forget about Snoke for a while. Give him time to hide and regroup.”

“I suppose. Though they didn’t get their show trial. All the same…”

“I don’t blame them for what they did,” he said, frowning. “After all, I planned to seize power for myself. But, you see, your plea bargain idea is a little thin, if I have no information to negotiate with.”

“I see that.” I sat back down on the bedroll, facing him. “So…what’s this plan of yours, then? You can’t give anything to the authorities, and you definitely can’t go back to the Order, and you don’t have any resources of your own to fight either of them.”

“Bleak, but true,” he sighed. “But, while I was at the Facility, I read a great many library books about the mechanics of Force sensitivity, and I think there’s a chance my memories can be replaced. What we need is to find someone Force-sensitive who would be willing to do it.”

“You can’t possibly mean…?”

“I only know of one Force-sensitive human, now that the Knights of Ren are mostly dead.”

I laughed uncertainly. “Surely not Kylo Ren, or whatever he calls himself these days?”

Hux shrugged. “It’s a long shot, but at present, it appears to be my only one.”

I sat quietly, digesting this, for several minutes.

“How are we going to do it?”

“Ah, so you’re on board,” he said, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “I hoped you would be. I was by no means certain.”

“You didn’t think I’d want to help you?”

“After everything I’ve done,” he said softly, “I have no right to expect it.”

“No,” I agreed. “You don’t. But the galaxy deserves to be rid of Snoke, and whatever fresh hell he’s cooking up for it. So I can hardly refuse.”

“Right,” he said, curling his lip. “Do it for the galaxy.”

I put a tentative hand on his cheek, the one with the gash.

“But you have changed, haven’t you?” I said. “You do see that everything was completely wrong, the way it was before? Do you understand why I left – why I had to leave?”

He looked away from me. “I have never known pain like it,” he said. “Even when Starkiller went up.”

“Neither have I,” I assured him vehemently. “I longed to go back to you, every day, every night. There were several times I almost did. I made it to the spaceport twice, but Tessia collected me both times. I felt like I was going mad. It was easier after Kirin was born, though. I had an important reason to stay where I was. And then, after what happened to the Hosnian System, I couldn’t doubt that I’d made the right decision.”

He chewed on his lip, still unable to meet my eyes.

“I hope you can believe me, Marillia, when I say that, at the time, I truly believed I was doing the right thing.”

“The end justifying the means? Yes, I remember you coming out with that little gem, a favourite with apologists for atrocity the universe over.”

His face tightened; the barb had hit home.

“Do you believe that now?” I said, more gently.

He hesitated. “The end never came about,” he said. “So, no. I don’t think it was the right thing to do. All it achieved was the destruction of Starkiller and the eventual defeat of the First Order.”

“Any _other_ reason?”

Still looking away, he said, “I wouldn’t involve innocent civilians in an act of war again. All right? Is that enough for you?”

It would have to be, and I believed him.

“All the same, the galaxy isn’t going to be content with an apology,” I said. “They’ll want their pound of flesh from you.”

“Yes, obviously I realise that,” he said. “They’ve had some of it already.”

“Not that you have a lot to spare,” I said. “I heard you starved yourself for a while.”

He nodded, swallowing.

“Was it…was it really awful? At Demron?”

“It’s not designed to be pleasant,” he said.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s more…it’s difficult to talk about. It’s like looking into a hall of mirrors and trying to work out which is showing the most accurate reflection.”

“Because you weren’t well?”

“There were so many versions of reality, especially at first. I wasn’t sure which one was real. I wasn’t even sure who I was, for a time.” He let me take his fingers and link them with mine. “Do you remember the last conversation we had on Starkiller?”

“Yes. It’s burned into my brain, more or less.”

“Same here. You said you were afraid that Snoke would read my thoughts and know that I hadn’t killed you. And I told you I’d developed a method of partially hiding my thoughts from him.”

“Yes, I remember that. A kind of fugue state, you said.”

“Yes, well, I’d been in that state of mind when I passed out in the bunker – and when I came round, I just couldn’t seem to get out of it. In fact, I fell in deeper and deeper until I was a number of different fragments of myself, all conflicting, none of them able to dominate – does that make any sense at all?”

“A multiple personality disorder? I’ve heard of that kind of thing.”

“Yes. In essence, I suppose my mind was acting in self-preservation, but it tipped over some kind of boundary and I couldn’t get back…just couldn’t find myself again. Perhaps I didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t want to face the future?”

“The fact that I didn’t have one.”

“Having such enormous hopes and dreams dashed would probably drive anyone a little bit mad,” I said, wrapping my arm around his and shifting closer.

“More than a little bit,” he said. “I can remember some of it. For whole days I would be myself as a five year old boy. I hadn’t realised how frightened I was all the time – I’d forgotten. I’d just cower in a corner and jump to attention any time a member of staff appeared. That was how it had been…I’d forgotten. Lost and lonely, all the time.”

I thought of Kirin, and my eyes filled with tears.

“It wasn’t fair,” I said, my voice wavering. “You shouldn’t have had to…”

“Well, too late for that now,” he said.

“I wish you’d had parents like mine.”

“So do I.”

“How long did that go on for? The psychosis?”

“I don’t know. Six months, a year? Time didn’t really exist in there. Nobody kept track of it.”

“But you came out of it in the end.”

“It was a gradual process, but eventually I began to understand what was real and what wasn’t. I kept my recovery from the psychiatrists, though. I feigned madness for quite a lot longer.”

“Why did you do that?”

“To buy myself some time. I knew that they’d have me on trial the moment I started talking in coherent sentences.”

“Was that when you stopped eating?”

“Yes. The recovery of my senses was nothing to celebrate. I was profoundly depressed. I asked repeatedly to be executed, but they wouldn’t, so I stopped eating instead.”

“But you don’t seem too unhealthy now. I mean, you’re thinner, but…”

“I began eating again when I realised there was a way to get out of there that didn’t involve the immediate transfer to somewhere as bad, or worse.”

“You came up with an escape plan?”

“Yes. I have my mother to thank for it, as it happens.”

“Really? When she came to see me, she said you didn’t recognise her.”

“I didn’t want to talk to her, so I pretended for a long time. But, once I was more myself, I decided to see her again. I thought she could help me.”

“And she did?”

“Yes. I’ve told you she was a teacher at Elite One, haven’t I?”

I nodded.

“Her subject was human and non-human intergalactic languages. She’s an expert in linguistics; very few of her peers can claim superior knowledge. And I recalled a time, when I was about twelve or thirteen, one summer holiday, when she and my father were commissioned to work on developing a completely new language. The idea was that it would be unique to the First Order – a logically constructed and pure tongue, free of the constant corruption and cross-pollenation of the older galactic languages. Something just for us at first, to be extended as our power grew.”

“Did that ever happen? I don’t remember anything like it at Starkiller.”

“No, it was mothballed. They decided to focus on digital communications instead. Mother wasn’t impressed. Still, for one summer vacation I was the guinea pig for this experiment, and I learned an awful lot of vocabulary and grammar which I seem to have retained – an impressionable age, I suppose.”

“Oh,” I said, beginning to see what he might have done.

“So when my mother visited one day, I began speaking to her in this language. It was perfect. She, and nobody else, could understand me. All visits were supervised, but the officers thought I was just raving. I gave instructions – obviously she wasn’t to talk back to me in the special language, because that would have aroused suspicion, but she could answer my questions in a number of pre-arranged ways. There were coded gestures, and so on. When she’d found some corruptible guards, she informed me by talking about my cousin’s wedding. That kind of thing.”

“Corruptible guards?”

“This is the Republic, Marillia, everyone is corruptible. Nearly everyone.” He stroked my wrist. “You never really fitted in, did you? Anyway, my mother bribed a decent number of them, and fed me plenty of information about the prison transfer ships. Once all this was sorted out, I had myself declared fit to plead and prepared for transfer. It was all pretty easy after that.”

“Good grief,” I said, trying not to sound too admiring. “You’re a clever swine.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I weren’t,” he said complacently. “Now, is that meal anywhere near ready? All that talk of starving myself has brought it all back.”


	5. Chapter 5

We ate the jackweasel casserole in near-silence. It wasn’t a culinary triumph – needed a lot more seasoning and some thickening – but Hux didn’t seem to care, tearing into it much as he’d disposed of the fish stew.

“What did they feed you at Demron?” I asked.

“Mashed stuff. Bland. White or grey. I’m not even sure what it was. A lot of the inmates had no teeth, so…” He held up his fork. “And it’s good to use metal cutlery again.”

He put his bowl aside and reached for the small pile of somewhat bruised and wizened fruit I’d collected from the woodland floor over the last few days.

“Did you, uh, socialise with any of the other inmates?” I asked. “I mean, you didn’t have to spend all day every day alone, did you?”

“More or less, bar the psychs and orderlies,” he said. “I was in the maximum security wing, obviously. And you wouldn’t really want to socialise with the creatures you’d meet in there, my dear. Most of them would kill you as soon as look at you. Or rape you,” he amended after some thought. “Some of the rapists took quite a strong interest in me. The solitary confinement was as much for my safety as anything else.”

“Wow,” I said, grimacing. “It must have been terrifying in there. And lonely.”

He shrugged. “It gave me time to think, which was what I needed.” He looked at the window. “It’s getting dark.”

I lit some of my tealights, while he wrapped himself up in the bedroll.

“Didn’t all those hunter-gatherers go to bed as soon as the sun set?” he said. “Come and lie with me. I need your warmth.”

“I’d wash the dishes but we’re nearly out of water,” I said. “I’ll need to go into the town tomorrow.”

I climbed into the bed next to him, still fully clothed. The cold was beginning to intensify as darkness grew. We wrapped ourselves around each other and hugged tight, trying to conserve what shared warmth we could.

“They’ll be looking for you,” said Hux. “It’s been a few days now – more than enough time to plaster your face all over the news bulletins.”

“Do you think?”

“Of course. Woman suspected of being involved with me goes missing at the same time I do – they’d be incredibly stupid not to make the link. I expect they’ll show your face next to mine. Our own version of the wedding photograph we never had.”

“Mm,” I said anxiously, hoping that Kirin wasn’t seeing any of these news bulletins. But Tessia would have the sense to keep him well away. A horrible thought struck me. “Do you think they’d go after Tessia? She’s the friend I’ve left Kirin with - plenty of people on Zyron know that we were living together before she got married. Oh Lord. I didn’t think of that. I need to…” I sat up in bed, hardly knowing what I meant to do, but Hux pulled me back down.

“There’s really nothing you can do about it now,” he said firmly. “If you break cover, everything is finished. I expect they’ll question her, but as long as she keeps Kirin out of their way, what can they do?”

“She wouldn’t tell them she was looking after Kirin. She wouldn’t.” I had to persuade myself, or I’d never get a moment’s rest. “What if they took him? To get to us? Would they do that?”

“They don’t know where he is,” insisted Hux. “Tessia’s no fool. She’ll keep him well out of view. They’ll probably assume he’s with you. With us.”

I lay in his arms, shivering with more than cold, while he stroked me into calmness.

“He’s quite safe,” he whispered, kissing my forehead. “Nobody will harm him.”

I shut my eyes, letting his words into me, letting myself be soothed.

“I wish we had him here with us,” I said. “I wish we could be together as a family, even if it was just for one day.”

“Perhaps we will be, when all of this is over.”

I opened one eye. “Do you really think so?” It seemed risky to even hope for it.

“I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “I can’t know. But it’s not impossible, is it?”

I smiled and kissed his neck. “I’m here with you, now. Only last week, I would have thought that was impossible.”

“There you are, then,” he said. “Never say die.”

We lay in the flickering light, pressing our cold feet and hands together, rubbing the numb tips of our noses.

When I spoke, I could see my breath.

“Does your mother know you’re here?”

He shook his head. “I think she assumed I’d take the escape pod to Ondaiin, or somewhere in that region.”

“I bet she’s wondering where the hell you are.”

“I bet she’s not.” He kissed me, stopping my teeth from chattering, breathing life into my lips. “She’ll know I’ve come to find you, but she won’t approve of it.”

“She doesn’t approve of _me_ ,” I laughed briefly. “In our very short meeting, she made that much crystal clear.”

“I’m not sure she’s going to approve of me much any more,” said Hux.

“She and your father programmed you like a droid,” I said. “You failed in your purpose, so you’re just scrap now.”

“Well, that’s a charming way of putting it,” said Hux, the tips of his ears reddening. “I’m not sure she’s as bad as all _that_.” He heaved a sigh. “But actually, the analogy works in some respects. My whole life, from the cradle, was preparation to lead an empire. Here I am, thirty five years old, and about as far from leading an empire as it’s possible to get.”

“Do you still want one?”

“I’ve no idea what I want, apart from you.” We kissed again, locking out the cold and the night and the world. “I’ll tell you what I could do,” he said, breaking off. “I could become a bounty hunter. This galaxy is seriously deficient in good bounty hunters.”

“Good bounty hunter sounds like a contradiction in terms.”

“Yes, and so is ‘competent bounty hunter’. Honestly, the parade of idiots I hired and fired. Beyond belief.”

“Under the First Order, the black market would have been a lot more efficient,” I teased.

“Don’t be cheeky, madam, or you’ll regret it,” he said in a tone I knew of old, making me curl my toes with the nostalgic thrill. “I’m sure I don’t know what it was they found so difficult. They had a straightforward brief: find this person and bring her to me. But every time they got close to you, some act of colossal stupidity or other threw them off the scent.”

I shivered.

“What if they’d caught me? What if they’d taken me to you? What then?”

“It’s probably just as well that they didn’t,” he said soberly. “I’d have kept you locked up somewhere you couldn’t escape from. Taken the child from you. Made you hate me.”

“You said you could make me happy,” I whispered.

“That was before I risked my life – everything - for you, only to have you run away from me,” he said. “You can imagine, can’t you, that I was a little bitter about it. I wanted to hurt you.”

“I didn’t even want to leave you. That’s the irony. I had no choice – by the time I knew what Tessia was doing, we had Stormtroopers firing at us.”

“I know, I know. At least, I do now. I didn’t then. I thought you’d cooked it up between you long before, and everything you’d said to me had been a lie…again…”

I thought of that day, and all I could see was the dead body of the woman he’d substituted for me, hanging there in space, glancing off our tie-fighter wing.

“I couldn’t have stayed with you, though,” I said. “If I’d stayed, I’d have ended up hating you anyway.”

“The ideological gulf between us was too wide,” he conceded. “I can see that now. At the time, I was somewhat…blinded.”

“I think we both were. I fantasised all the time about getting you away from the First Order.”

“And I thought I could bring you all the way in.”

“It was impossible.”

“Yes.”

I was warm now, enough to sit up and take off my jacket and two of the three layers beneath it.

“Things are different now,” I said.

“I can’t argue with that.” He pulled me back down and began to unfasten my trousers.

“You aren’t here for revenge?” I looked anxiously into his eyes as he pulled my trousers down to my ankles.

He knelt back, staring down at me until I felt the chill settle back in my bones.

“If that’s what you think…”

“No, no, it isn’t, it’s just… I don’t know… I’m not used to having hope for us. I can’t seem to accept it.”

He discarded my trousers and lay back down beside me, rolling me up into his embrace.

“You want us to be together, don’t you?” he said.

“More than anything.”

“So do I. Accept it. We have some barriers to overcome first, but we have a much better chance of success if we aren’t constantly doubting each other. I came to you because I realised that you really did love me – for myself, not for what I might become - and as such you were probably the only person I could turn to now, including my mother.”

“Really?”

“You won’t ever be rid of me, Marillia, I can promise you that.”

I’d always known it.

I put my arms around his neck and let myself be kissed until I felt myself falling, deep into the dangerous waters of my inescapable love for him.

He warmed me up again, using his hands, arms, legs, mouth, all over my body, until my blood was rushing to all four corners of me. I couldn’t get him inside me fast enough; I climbed on top of him and impaled myself, panting with satisfaction as I worked him all the way up. He clamped his hands on my bottom, forcing me into his preferred rhythm and tempo, controlling my movements even in this position.

I let him, because I loved his hold on me, bending down to give him the best view of my breasts. He caught one nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, still rocking me up and down his shaft. I bent lower, angling myself so he hit my sweetest spots with each push-pull movement.

Before I could build up to climax, he put a hand on my shoulder and rolled me over. Crouching over me, holding me down, he made sure there was no mistake about who was in charge of this act. I wrapped my legs around his hips and made my pelvis rise to meet each thrust. I felt sparks, heat glowing and growing inside me. He grabbed my face and made me look at him when I came, and I saw the old Hux behind the battered face and ginger beard; the man I couldn’t say no to.

“That’s it,” he hissed, as I writhed underneath him, pinned by the laser of his stare.

He had been holding himself back until I finished, because his own climax came mere milliseconds later and ended with us tightly entwined, sweaty cheeks sticking together, cooling rapidly in the chill night air.

“Were there other men?” he asked, once our hearts had slowed.

“After you?” I shook my head. “I had offers, but I didn’t accept any.”

“Why not?”

He was fishing now, and I obliged him.

“Because nobody could ever measure up to your outstanding prowess, of course,” I said.

He elbowed me sharply.

“I hope that isn’t sarcasm,” he said.

I wriggled in his arms. “What if it is?”

“Do you really want to find out?”

“Ooh, the six million credit question.”

He laughed softly and lay back, his eyes shut.

“It’ll have to wait until tomorrow if you do,” he confessed. “I could sleep for a hundred years.”

“Same here.” I paused. “And the real answer to your question isn’t far off what I said, anyway. I just didn’t want anyone else.”

Without opening his eyes, he passed one of his hands across my brow, stroking along my hairline.

“That’s good,” he murmured with a yawn.

I blew out the candles and huddled into him until morning.

*

When I woke up, loud, hard rain was thundering on the roof.

Hux was up, wrapped in his old fur coat – although I had to presume it didn’t actually belong to him. He must have stolen or borrowed it, or found it on a garbage heap, or something. He had the kettle on the stove and was chewing on the pan-fried thigh of a jackweasel.

“Good morning,” he said, turning to me as I stirred.

“It doesn’t sound much like one,” I said, getting up to peer through the window. Nothing was visible through the lashing cataract but the dismal skies.

“We’re out of water,” said Hux, gesturing at the row of empty plastic bottles. “So it’s just what we need, if you have anything to gather the rainwater.”

“A bucket or something?” I said. “I don’t think I have. The saucepan might do. Or I could just go into town.”

Hux’s face tensed.

“You might be seen,” he said.

“Well, we don’t plan on staying here forever anyway, do we? We’ll have to take that risk sooner or later. How are we going to get to Kylo Ren? Do you know where he is?”

Hux fished something out of an inner pocket and threw it to me. It was a tiny communications device of some kind.

“Is this trackable?” I asked, looking up anxiously before trying any of the buttons.

“No. It belonged to one of the security guards on the prison transfer ship. It has optional trackability – of course, I turned it off. It can still pick up messages from Republican headquarters, though.”

“Can it?” I pushed in one of the buttons, and a string of random data ran across the little screen.

“Yes. Problem is, they’re coded. I thought you might come in handy there.”

I shook my head, watching the symbols flash and disappear.

“It’ll take a while to work out,” I said.

“We have time.”

“I suppose we do. But there’s nothing to charge this thing with here. We’re going to have to move, Wil.”

“Just when I was getting used to the hunter-gatherer lifestyle.” He took the kettle off the stove and poured. “But where can we move to? Do you have any suggestions?”

“Possibly.” I took the cup he handed to me and blew off the steam, thinking hard. “I’ll have to talk to somebody. In town.”

His face darkened immediately. “No, Marillia,” he said.

“This is a person who doesn’t want to come to the attention of the authorities,” I placated him. “She has three warrants out for her. She might be able to help. Don’t look like that – I won’t tell her who you are. I’ll just say you’re a friend of mine, that’s all. What else are we going to do? We can’t cross the planet with you in that prison uniform, looking like you do.”

“I managed to get here all right,” he sniffed. “But you’re right. It wasn’t ideal. I don’t want this woman to see me, though. She mustn’t know who I am – nobody can.”

“I’ll go and see her today,” I determined. “You’d better wait here.”

He put a hand on my wrist, gripping it urgently.

“I said I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, and I meant it,” he said.

“But Wil, you can’t walk into town with me. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I’ll follow you, keeping out of sight. I’m good at that.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

He locked eyes with me. It was a long time before he even blinked.

“What if you didn’t come back?” he said.

“Or what if I came back and you weren’t here?” I said, the thought making me feel nauseous. “OK. But you have to be very, very careful. I mean, beyond careful. I mean…”

“I know what you mean. I’ve told you, I’m good at stalking. You won’t know I’m there, and neither will anyone else.”

I shrugged. There was no use arguing. We were in danger every minute of the day anyway – what difference would changing the location make?

“All right,” I said. “I’ll walk along the shore. Nobody will be out in this weather anyway. You can track me from the woods.”

“Done.” He put down his cup, sat beside me and kissed me long and soundly. “This is our first step to putting things right, Marillia,” he said. “We can’t get anything wrong.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Hux might have been the worst stalker in the star system for all I knew; trudging along the sands into the driving rain and bitter wind, I wouldn’t have seen him three yards away.

I was drenched all over, my coarse outdoor garments weighing more than Kirin by the time I mounted the harbour steps. They rubbed against my wet skin, causing a flare-up of itchy irritation along my arms and legs.

The few streets were empty; lights flickered behind drawn curtains in most of the windows. Reaching the address I had been given, I turned around, looking for Hux, or the shadow of him, but he was nowhere to be seen. My resolve wavered. What if he wasn’t there? What if this plan of mine failed horribly and my brothel-keeper friend ratted on us? The risk overwhelmed me, and I was ready to turn back.

Indeed, I’d taken a step away from the place, when the side door opened and a face peered out.

“Are you after business? It’s early.”

I pulled my hood right down, obscuring my eyes.

“No, I want to talk to Madam Rama,” I said. “We met a few days ago and she said if I was passing…”

“Right.” The young man – I’d worked out it was a man now, having first thought he was female – paused for a moment. “I’ll go and get her.”

I stood miserably, back flat against the wall, waiting for my doom. My heart jumped as Hux, in his sodden fur coat, flitted into the yard and concealed himself in an outhouse. He didn’t risk speaking, or even looking in my direction. It gave me heart, though, and when Madam Rama came to the door, I was emboldened.

“Who is it?” she asked, failing to recognise me at first.

“We met a few days ago,” I said, daring to move closer. “You gave me a lift here.”

She inhaled sharply, staring in fascination.

“My famous friend?” she said at last. “I most certainly do remember.”

“Famous?”

“Haven’t you seen the bulletins? You’re _all over_ them. Marillia Rome, right?”

“Look, I’ll go. This is a mistake – I shouldn’t drag you into this. Can you please just pretend you haven’t seen me?”

I made to go, but she came off the doorstep, reaching out one sharp-nailed hand to me.

“No, no, no, don’t run away. I can see you’re nervous, but my dear, if I’d meant to drop you in it, I’d have been in touch with the authorities before now, wouldn’t I?”

I stopped. She was right. I’d told her about the beach hut – we’d have been apprehended by now, if she had any of that ‘citizens’ conscience’ the Republican law enforcers were always going on about.

“I guess,” I faltered.

“Look, don’t stand out there in the rain. Come in and get dry by the fire. Even if I can’t help you, perhaps I’ll know someone who can. Come on, dear. That’s it.”

She showed me quickly into a small but comfortable back room, lit by a roaring fire. I made straight for it, throwing off my coat and removing my waterlogged boots, kneeling down so the heat would blast my whole body.

“I’ll call for tea,” she said, speaking into a device.

“Oh, don’t let anyone see me,” I implored, grabbing for my coat again, but Rama whisked it away and put it on a hook by the fireside.

“It’s all right, Marillia. You’re safe here. Nobody here wants the authorities involved in their lives in any way. Nobody.”

I nodded, and she continued to order tea and hotbreads.

“So,” she said, installing herself in an armchair. “You keep some interesting company.”

I tried to gauge her expression – how did she feel about this? – but she retained a perfect poker face.

“He’s the father of my child,” I muttered.

“I understand,” she said.

“I know there’s no excuse for what he did…”

She held up her hand.

“I wouldn’t dream of judging,” she said. “I’m not exactly blameless myself. I’ve done whatever it takes to get by in this world, and some of it wasn’t very nice. You might be interested to know that we have a few ex-First Order working here.”

I blinked with surprise. “Really?”

“Hell, yes, the number of former Stormtroopers selling themselves around the illegal spaceports would shock you. I’ve taken a few of the prettier ones under my wing. We run a happy house here. Nobody talks about politics, or the Force. Those are the rules. Anything else goes.” She winked.

The same young man who’d answered the door to me entered the room with a tea tray. He was wearing false eyelashes and had ribbons in his long dark hair.

“Thank you, Frant.” Rama took up the teapot and poured. “I’ll leave you to organise the cleaners this morning. I’m a little busy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sashaying away. And he really did sashay. I’d never seen it done before.

“So, how can I help you, Marillia? And, more to the point, how can you help me?” She smiled, showing glitteringly white teeth.

“I have money,” I said. “Savings. Not a fortune in anyone’s estimation, but…”

She shook her head.

“I’m not a charity case,” she said. “We prosper here, believe me.”

“So what…?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Not yet. But I expect I’ll think of something. And in the meantime, some of that money might come in handy. I suppose you want shelter?”

I exhaled heavily, my heart thundering.

“Would that be…?”

“I’ll consider it. You work in tech, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“I could use someone to manage our comms, I suppose. But you’ll have to stay hidden. I can’t have you out and about when we have clients in the house.”

“I wasn’t planning to put on a burlesque show.”

Rama laughed heartily, reaching over to pat my thigh.

“I have enough of that around here, believe me. Not that you wouldn’t make a good burlesque performer. Lovely curves.” Her smile was predatory enough to make me blush and feel intensely conscious of the way my wet clothes clung to me.

“So you can put us up for a little while? It won’t be long, I promise. Just long enough to figure out our next step.”

“Next step? You have a plan?”

“Of sorts. And we’ll need clothes, and perhaps some kind of disguise, though I’m not sure what. We’ll have to do something about his hair. Everyone notices his hair. And I wondered if you knew anyone who could falsify papers…”

She held up a hand, cutting off my ramblings. “You don’t want much, do you? I’m going to be owed the most enormous list of favours by the time this is through.”

“I know that,” I said. “And we’ll do whatever we can to compensate you.”

That predatory smile again.

“I’m sure you will, my dear. Well, I’m afraid I can’t offer you luxury accommodation. This place is popular even in the off-season – clients travel from all over the sector – and all my rooms are full. I’ll put a mattress in the basement store room for you.”

“Oh, that’ll be fine,” I said, relief flooding me. “More than fine. Honestly, we just need a bolthole for a little while. As long as I can connect a charger in there…”

“You can. I apologise in advance for the noise, though. It’s next-door to our dungeon. I hope the cries of ecstatic agony won’t interfere too much with your plotting.”

For a hot-cheeked moment, I had no idea what to say. My mind whirled with the possibilities thrown up by putting General Hux in close proximity to a sex dungeon.

“Well, I, uh, hope our plotting doesn’t interfere too much with the erotic torture,” I said, trying to quash a nervous laugh. I had a feeling there might be plenty of both in my near future.

“It won’t be continuous,” Rama reassured me. “I only take dungeon bookings three nights a week. And there’s a monthly party, but we don’t have one scheduled till the new moon. I suggest you both recalibrate to a nocturnal mode of living. The house is quiet by day, but by night…” She chuckled. “You were lucky to catch me up. It was quite a wild one, last night, and I’m still coming down from it. Most of the girls and boys are fast asleep, and will be till sunset.”

“Right,” I said, finishing up my tea and taking a last hurried bite of the hotbread. “Well, thanks again. This is way beyond a favour, I know. We’ll keep our heads well down – nobody will know we’re here.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea on all counts,” said Rama, eyeing me contemplatively. “I have several workers here who lost loved ones in the Hosnian System. Your boyfriend doesn’t want to get locked in the dungeon with any of _them_ , believe me.”

The rising guilt was more than I could cope with; I pushed it out of my mind.

“The boy who brought the tea in…?” I said, anxious that I might have been recognised.

“Frant? She wouldn’t have recognised you.”

“Oh,” I said, noting the pronoun. “Sorry. The…girl who brought the tea in…”

“Frant’s gender-fluid. Prefers she but accepts he as well. Don’t tie yourself up in knots about it.” Rama leant forward. “I’ll let you go and collect our new guest, then. I’m fascinated to meet him, I must say.”

“He’s just outside,” I said. “In your outhouse. Wait here a minute.”

I was almost loth to leave Rama, horribly aware that it would take her no more than a minute to leave an anonymous tip-off with the manhunt hotline. But I had to trust her. I had no other option.

I ran across the courtyard, finding Hux sitting on a broken table in the outhouse.

He leapt up as I entered, drawing his blaster, then put it away when he saw it was me.

“Good news,” I said. “We can stay.”

“Can we trust her?”

“Can we trust anyone? I’m as sure as I can be that she isn’t interested in giving us up to the authorities.”

Hux nodded.

“It’ll have to do,” he said, and he followed me back to the side entrance.

Rama was waiting for us in the passageway. She looked Hux up and down with insolent frankness. He kept his hand in his pocket, ready to draw the blaster at a moment’s notice.

“I wouldn’t have recognised you anyway,” she said. “Perhaps when your hair dries.”

He didn’t say anything, but offered a jerky nod.

“Follow me, then,” she said, turning and leading us to a dark stairwell behind a concealed door. At the foot, it opened into a cavernous chamber with cushioned rubber flooring and all kinds of interestingly-shaped equipment that I couldn’t quite make out in the gloom. A length of cold metal chain brushed against my face as I crossed the room, making me jump in fright. Hux put a hand on my shoulder until we reached a low door at the far end of the chamber.

Rama opened it and clicked on the central light.

“Your boudoir,” she said tonelessly.

It was bigger than I thought, but most of the space was occupied with storage, every wall obscured by towering shelves of drawers. There was enough space for a double mattress in the centre of all this, but it would be a claustrophobic few days.

“There’s a shower room across the dungeon,” said Rama. “I’ll have food brought to you. I’ll also come down every day with a schedule of dungeon bookings, just so you know what to expect and when to stay hidden.” Hux took off his matted, soaking fur coat. Rama’s eyes opened a little wider at the damp prison uniform beneath it. “And I’ll bring you both a change of clothes, along with the mattress,” she said. “It’s warm down here, at least, with the underfloor heating. If you need anything, contact me via Frant when she brings your food.”

“A razor,” said Hux abruptly. “Sorry. I would like a razor, if you have one.”

“Oh yes, I have one,” she said, inclining her head graciously. “I’ll see to it for you.”

She turned to leave, but before she could, Hux withdrew his blaster and fired it into the air. This struck me as pretty poor guest etiquette, but it certainly got Rama’s attention.

“Just insurance,” he said, staring at her. “I will shoot anyone and everyone who gets in my way, should any unwelcome visitors turn up at this door. Anyone and everyone.”

“Wil,” I cautioned, but he took no notice of me.

“Understandable in the circumstances,” said Rama calmly, with a gracious nod. “But I assure you, no unwelcome visitors will be here at _my_ invitation.”

“Forgive me for making my point so bluntly,” he said, reholstering the blaster.

She gave me a look that might have been interpreted as pitying, and left.

“Did you have to do that?” I muttered, jerking away from him when he reached for me.

“You’re too trusting,” he said, grabbing my elbow anyway and making me face him. “I’m afraid it’s us against the galaxy now, Marillia. I hope your brothelkeeper friend will do as she says, but we can’t afford to take it for granted.”

“She’ll probably be desperate to get rid of us now,” I objected. “And she can always make an anonymous call to the manhunt hotline. They’d be here before we’ve had a chance to shower and dress.”

“Oh, those anonymous calls never really are,” he said dismissively. “They can trace them, and they do. Besides, do you really think Madam Rama wants armed security knocking on her door?”

“No, which is why it was totally unnecessary to do what you did.”

“Are you sure you want to argue with me, Marillia, given our location?” he said softly.

I tried to pull away from him, furious with his constant need to assert his control over everything and everyone. That much hadn’t changed. You might as well ask a koriena to change its stripes.

“I stupidly thought the events of your recent past might have taught you a shred of humility,” I said.

“Yes, well, that _was_ stupid,” he said, baring his teeth a little; not quite a snarl, but getting there. “Survival comes before good manners; a lesson you’ll need to learn pretty swiftly if we’re to stand any chance of getting out of this alive.”

I had reached that point where anger was about to turn embarrassingly into tears. Fortunately, Madam Rama saved me, appearing at the door with Frant and a double futon.

They unrolled it on the floor and piled bedding and clean clothes on top. Finally, Rama took a razor from her cleavage and handed it to Hux with a flourish.

“All your needs attended to, sir,” she said with a hint of mockery that made me suppress a smile.

Hux chose not to be affronted. “You’re too kind,” he said.

Frant, lurking in the corner, watched with fascination, as if he was trying to see through the beard and the hideous fur coat to the familiar figure of the news bulletins. I really hoped Rama was right about his sense of discretion. One stray word among the tenants above could lead to our doom.

“Well, I’ll leave you to settle in,” said Rama. “There is a chamber booking later on, at twenty one thirty, so you’ll need to be quiet for an hour or so then. No other bookings after that. Frant will bring you some lunch in an hour or so.”

“Thank you,” I said. “We really do appreciate this.” 

I could tell Hux didn’t care to have me speak on his behalf, but it was tough. It was clear I was going to have to be civil enough for both of us here.

Rama and Frant left.

Before Hux could say or do anything, I announced my hurried intention to take a shower, and bolted across the dungeon to the ensuite facilities.

I peeled off the remainder of my damp clothes, wondering as I looked in the full-length wall mirror if I was the first person to use this shower without having prior sex.

“You probably are,” I said to my patchy red self. My skin was dry with old brine and my hair was in almost as awful a state as Hux’s coat. Gorgeous. No wonder he couldn’t keep his hands off me.

I stepped under the hot jets, loving them more wholeheartedly than I’d loved many things in my life. While my eyes were screwed tight shut against the suds flowing down from my hair, the door opened and somebody else came in.

I opened my eyes wide, the soap stinging into them, to see Hux standing in front of the mirror, giving himself a stricken once-over.

“I haven’t seen myself in a long time,” he said, glancing over to me. “I don’t know if I’d have recognised this man.”

“It’s just superficial,” I said.

He began to take off the prison uniform, wincing at the sight of his protruding ribcage and the vicious scar-tattoo beneath it.

“This isn’t,” he said, tracing a finger around the symbol’s perimeter.

“Yes it is,” I said. “It’s just a bit of injured skin. There’s no First Order left inside you. Is there?”

He removed the uniform bottoms.

“No,” he said, still transfixed by his gaunt reflection. “But what is inside me? That’s what I need to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux, Marillia and a basement full of BDSM paraphernalia...quite an explosive combination, I fear... ;)


	7. Chapter 7

My eyes were still stinging when Hux turned away from the mirror and stepped into the shower with me. I felt suddenly shy, as if he was seeing me naked for the first time, which was ridiculous. All the same I turned my side to him and feigned intense interest in the gel bottle, passing him the shampoo without looking.

He uttered a low sigh of pleasure as the warm water enveloped him and stood for a while, eyes shut, in the steam cloud.

“It’s been a _very_ long time since I had a hot shower,” he explained, opening one eye.

“Didn’t they have them at…you know…?”

“They had a kind of shower,” he said. “You stood in a tiled cubicle and they hosed you down with cold water.”

“Bloody hell. How horrible.”

“Understatement,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “They liked to direct the jet at my scar.” He looked down at it. “Then they’d aim at my face.”

“It doesn’t sound very therapeutic.”

“No, the orderlies were mostly brutes, chosen for their physical strength. Obviously they liked to have their fun with me in a thousand humiliating little games. How are the mighty fallen, and all that. I suspect the other inmates did get hot water. Just not me.”

I put my hand to his face, rubbing my palm over his damp beard – a gesture of farewell, since it was doomed to the razor.

“A lot of people would want to hurt you,” I said. “Perhaps most of the people in the galaxy.”

“I know,” he said. He put one hand over mine. “But not you.”

“No, not me.”

“And to think I used to doubt your loyalty.”

“There are different kinds of loyalty.”

“Yes.” He bent to kiss me. The water streamed around our lips, gathering and dripping from our chins, into the cleft formed by our chests as we moved closer together.

He put his hands on my hips, then slid them behind, placing both palms flat on my bottom. It felt like a gesture of reclamation, and the answering throb between my thighs made me press myself tighter against him. His beard tickled and prickled my face; I concentrated on how it felt, making a memory.

But there were other things to feel too, like the ever-growing and hardening presence between my legs, rubbing against me as if insisting I acknowledge it. I clasped my hands around his neck and parted my lips, admitting his tongue, a foretaste of what he had in store for me.

He raised a hand and smacked it down on my bottom, my skin’s wetness making it resound – and sting – far more than it normally would. I yelped into his mouth, and he broke the kiss.

“Not here,” he growled, his breathing uneven. “I left the blaster in the other room, and I can’t stop thinking somebody might take it. If you’re done, go and keep an eye on it for me.”

I made a little mewing sound of frustration. He laughed and kissed the tip of my nose.

“Don’t worry, Marillia, you have it coming. You’ll be begging me to stop long before I’m finished with you.” Another kiss. “Go on, now. You look more than clean enough to me.”

With my hormones racing around my body as if they were in training for the Kessel Run, I snatched a towel from the rack and stomped back to our little bolthole. Once I was dry, and my body had dropped from sex red alert to sex amber alert, I knelt down on the futon to examine the clean clothes we’d been donated.

I picked each one up with saucer eyes and incredulous giggles. They’d all come straight off the fetish fantasy rail. I suppose it was to be expected, what with this being a brothel, but all the same…

For a start, both of the two pairs of knickers were crotchless. There was, of course, a hygiene issue to consider with underwear, but in that case they might as well not have sent any down at all. There was a tight shiny black corset thing I’d have to remove a couple of ribs to get on. A teeny-tiny black rubber miniskirt. A bra with splits across the cups, to expose the nipples. A pile of fishnet stockings, with lacy suspender belts. A silk robe that just about skimmed my bum cheeks. A diaphanous negligee type thing, longer but completely transparent. And that was it. Nothing I could make a getaway in, nothing I could even go upstairs in.

I put them all aside, eyeing my old, wet, dirty beach-hut-forager gear with resigned distaste. Would I really have to wear it again? I’d have to give Rama some money to buy something a bit more practical when the time came.

But what had they brought for Hux? My curiosity knew no bounds. He was better catered for -  no underwear at all, but one long silk robe, one pair of leather trousers that would be tight on anyone else but not on him, two silk shirts - one white, one black, nice quality - and…oh lord, that couldn’t be real! It was a First Order uniform. Except it wasn’t – the fabric was cheap and the cut was crude. It was a fetish outfitter’s version of a First Order uniform!

This was clearly Madam Rama’s idea of a joke, but I hid it away before Hux could see it, stuffing it under the futon, winged cap and all. People must come here with the intention of acting out their weird First-Order-related sex fantasies. What a fucked up thought that was – but then, I could hardly talk. I was sitting here waiting to act out my weird sex fantasies with an actual First Order general.

I kept the boots and the leather gloves anyway. I’d always liked them.

When Hux returned, I was sitting on the futon, still wrapped in my towel.

The beard was gone. If it weren’t for the hollower cheeks and the remnants of his injuries, I could be looking at the aforementioned actual First Order general. The sideburns were back, neat as ever, and he’d swept his wet hair back off his forehead and parted it in his old style, albeit an inch or so longer.

It was like having him back all over again. I had forgotten the highly complex blend of emotions he’d stirred up in me back in the Starkiller Base days: desire shading into love, underpinned by fear, overlaid with despair. The old tension reasserted itself in the pit of my stomach. Here was General Hux, and his attention was directed solely at me. An uneasy sense that he might see through me floated up from its burial place, even though there was no longer anything for him to see through.

_What if he finds me out?_

But everything was different now. Well, not everything. That look in his eye was _very_ familiar.

“You didn’t dress,” he said. “Sensible decision.” He adjusted his towel around his waist, but nothing could disguise the obvious indentation.

“The clothes are a bit…” I waved an explanatory hand at them.

He bent to inspect the garments, his lips curving upwards by degrees as he picked through them.

“I’ve heard of going native, but this…”

“Is ridiculous,” I finished.

He dropped to his knees on the futon, still sorting them through.

“Is interesting,” he amended. “Very.”

He held up the shiny corset.

“Put this on,” he said.

“I’m not sure it’s physically possible,” I objected.

“Try it.”

Before I could argue further, there were footsteps outside and a tentative knock at the door.

Hux made a dive for his blaster and stood by the jamb, weapon cocked.

“Who is it?”

“Just Frant. With your lunch.”

“Leave it outside and go. If you aren’t out of here by the time I open the door, I will fire on sight. Clear?”

I heard him suck in a breath. “Clear,” he quavered, and the next sound was of running feet.

Hux opened the door and collected the tray. The problem of dressing was deferred while we assuaged our considerable hunger, but once the plates were empty, it reared its head once more.

Hux pushed the tray away.

“I’m going to leave that on the top step, by the hidden door,” he said. “I don’t want anyone coming down here again for a few hours.”

Heat suffused my face. “Don’t you?”

He shook his head, holding my gaze, then put a finger under my chin, raising it slightly.

“I used to lie awake at night,” he said, “thinking of all the things I’d do to you when I had you back.”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

“I came up with quite a list. And that was before I knew I’d be in a place like this. Suddenly my options have multiplied. How shall I narrow them down, Marillia?”

A vein pulsed in my neck; my heart hammered.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t…I mean…we aren’t paying customers…”

“You’re as nervous as a kitten,” he observed with satisfaction. “I like that. I might use it as a pet name for you. Kitten. Do you like it?”

I chewed my lip, overtaken by the rush of pleasurable fear.

“If you want,” I whispered.

“If I want, yes,” he said. “I want, and I will get. You can give me something very precious now, something I thought I’d lost forever.”

I knew the answer to this.

“Control,” I breathed.

“Always my clever girl.” He stroked my face, wiping away the residual patches of shower-damp from my hairline. “Made for me.”

“But you won’t…you won’t go too far?” His gaze was so unnervingly intense, his voice so tight and restrained, that I felt an edge of real danger.

“I mean to hurt you,” he said. “But only as much as you want to be hurt. You know I’m good at that. You must remember.”

I held on to his wrist, squeezing it. “I do. I trusted you completely.”

“Past tense?”

I caught a breath, suddenly and unaccountably on the cusp of hysterical laughter.

“I…don’t know…”

“But you will, I promise.” He stroked my face some more, kissed me gently, then his expression hardened, and so did his voice. “Take off that towel.”

My fingers flew to the knot at my breasts, obeying him without question. The tone he used did something to me I couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was something he’d learned in military school. Whatever it was, it was up there with the Jedi mind tricks.

The towel fell open and slithered off me, leaving me bared to him.

“Perhaps the clothes won’t be necessary this time,” he said, looking me over. “For you, at least.”

He stood and began opening and closing the wall-mounted drawers at random, investigating the contents of each, making occasional noises of interest.

“What’s in there?” I asked fearfully.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he replied. “I’ll give you this much, though.”

He turned and showed me a length of thick black silk, then he dropped down beside me and pressed it tight against my eyes, tying it firmly behind my head. Enveloped in darkness, I let out a whimper of protest.

He hushed me.

“You’re relearning to trust me,” he said. “This will help.”

It wasn’t clear exactly how, but I thought better of complaining. It was unlikely to do me any good. Besides, the real fear was receding now, slowly replaced by the more palatable ‘a bad man is going to do very bad things to me and I’m going to enjoy it’ variety.

I settled myself into acceptance. He was going to do whatever he was going to do. It was inevitable. I just had to submit to it. Simple.

I heard drawers open, and then things were thrown down, landing a foot or so away from me, clashing together as they fell. I tried to guess what they were by the sounds they made, and their impact on the bedding. Some of them were light, some heavy, some of them clinked, some of them fell with a dull thud, some were hollow - it was impossible to know what any of them were, although the clinky ones had to be some kind of bondage equipment.

He left the drawers and, I guessed, started putting on some clothes. The swish of silk, the soft creak of leather. I was already highly aroused without a word or a touch. Hux knew how to do this to me, even after all this time. I was in good hands. I could give myself over to pleasure.

He picked up the things he had thrown on the bed and left the room with them. He was gone for a minute or two – replacing the tray at the top of the steps, I assumed.

I only knew he had returned when he spoke.

“Kneel up,” he said, quietly assertive.

I obeyed instantly, shoulders back, chin raised, arms at my side.

I heard him approach – he was wearing the boots - then I gasped as he put a gloved finger beneath my chin, holding my head in place. I breathed in the tang of leather, feeling the tremor in my stomach and between my legs more acutely with my vision blocked.

“Stay in position,” he said, bending to pick something up.

The next thing I felt was more leather, but around my neck this time. It was a padded leather collar; it jingled as Hux buckled it, tightly but not too tightly, over my golden choker.

“That suits you,” he said. “I’ll have you wearing one of these all the time, I think.” He clipped something to a metal ring at the side, then I felt a tug. I was on a leash.

“All fours,” he said, tugging again.

I jolted forward on to my hands and knees.

“Come on, Kitten.”

He clicked his tongue, the way you’d attract the attention of a tame animal, and took a step in the direction of the dungeon. I had no option but to crawl after him. I was grateful for the cushioned, heated floor as I crept into the cavernous chamber. All the same, there was a frigid edge to the air that stiffened my nipples into peaks.

We took a winding route through the dungeon, Hux stopping every so often to examine a piece of equipment.

“An embarrassment of riches,” he said after a few such halts. “I’m having difficulty deciding. Perhaps I’ll let you choose. Would you rather be suspended from a hook or bent over a bench?”

The hook sounded like hard work, even if my feet were touching the ground.

“I think maybe the bench, sir,” I ventured.

“Good. The hook it is,” he decreed, chuckling at my little growl of frustration. He yanked on the leash. “Stand up.”

I scrambled to my feet, slightly dizzy with disorientation.

“Hold out your hands for me.”

He picked up whatever had jingled. From the feeling of the padding against my wrists as he enveloped them in more leather, I suspected these cuffs matched the collar. He clicked them together, then lifted my arms until they were above my head. Another clip was attached to the cuffs and my arms were placed out of my control, raised high. I was hooked.

Hux made some adjustments with some kind of pulley, lifting my body until I stood on tiptoe. The tension was uncomfortable, my calves already trembling with it.

He noticed and lowered me an inch again.

“Thank you, sir,” I mumbled.

In response, he knelt between my feet and cuffed each ankle, forcing them apart with a metal spreader bar linked to each cuff. It was barely more comfortable than the tiptoed stance, and left me considerably more exposed. Cool air circulated between my parted thighs, playing over my spread lips and unprotected clit. I wanted to clamp it all shut, but I couldn’t.

Now my balance was compromised too, and I felt as if I might swoop forward on my hook and wobble all over the place. I had to concentrate on keeping myself centred.

Just as I thought I’d mastered it, there was a noise from the top of the stairs. I squeaked in panic and fell forwards, forcing Hux to draw me upright by my hips.

“Hush,” he ordered. We listened intently. The rattle of the lunch tray was succeeded by the closing of the door.

I breathed again. Just Frant picking up our leftovers.

“What if someone comes down?” I whispered.

“What if they do?” Hux sounded indifferent to the prospect. “I doubt it’s anything they won’t have seen before.”

“But Wil…” I moaned, but a swift and smart smack to my rear shocked me into silence.

“What did you just call me?” he hissed.

“Sorry,” I muttered, subdued. “Sir.”

“Don’t forget it. And put it out of your mind. You have enough on your plate right now, Marillia, without adding needless extra concerns. Not another word from you, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

His palm strayed from my hip, following the curve of my bottom.

“One thing I used to think of doing,” he said, speaking into my ear, his lips brushing my skin, “was having you permanently stamped with my initials, just here.” He pinched a portion of my right cheek, just above the junction of arse and thigh. “On an angry day, I imagined branding them. If I was feeling a little more forgiving, just a tattoo. I might still do that. What do you think?”

I couldn’t think, or speak. The thought of it reduced me to quivering incoherence. I let out a small sobbing sound.

“Of course,” he said, not waiting for a more reasoned reply, “you don’t _need_ a stamp of ownership to prove that you belong to me. There are all kinds of ways that can be reinforced. But I’m going to keep it in mind.”

He removed his hands from me and picked something up. It tinkled slightly, a reassuringly delicate sound.

“You look very pretty like that,” said Hux, “but I think you could stand a little adornment.”

He took hold of one breast. Cold metal sent a tingle through my nipple, then it was caught in a tight squeeze, sensitised beyond belief by its sudden engorgement.

“Ah, ow, what is it, take if off,” I yowled, writhing, but my motion only made it tinkle again.

Hux bent and kissed my tormented nipple, gently as a whisper, but even that felt unbearably overstimulating.

“Never had your nipples clamped before, Kitten?” he asked with fake sympathy. “It’s uncomfortable I hear, but you’ll get used to it.” He placed a second clamp on my other nipple. It wasn’t quite so startling this time, but it still got my undiluted attention.

“There,” he said, clearly admiring his handiwork. “A blindfold, a collar and pair of clamps. How well you wear them.”

I was still squirming, trying to acclimatise to the firm pinching sensation on my nipples. The pain receded once the initial shock wore off, but it remained very difficult to ignore.

“And now we can begin.”


	8. Chapter 8

He left me just enough space to fill my head with theories about what he would do next. My arms were stretched high above me, the enforced strain complementing my own taut nerves.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he said, stepping closer.

“I’m waiting,” I replied.

He put one finger on my hip and dragged it slowly upwards, then down again. I shuddered, my body unable to maintain its strict tension beneath his touch.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, directing the words into my ear, his lips against the blindfold silk.

“In a way,” I admitted. “But it’s not real fear. More a kind of nervous excitement.”

“Nervous excitement,” he repeated consideringly, putting both hands flush against my hips. Now that he was so close, his silk shirt made contact with my suffering nipples, causing sparks of pleasure-pain to twinkle through me.

He put his mouth on mine. The kiss was ravenous and possessive, forcing my neck back and my jaw open as I surrendered to it. He fed on me and made me feed on him, sliding his hands behind me and all over my bottom, gripping and squeezing my cheeks as his tongue searched every inch of my mouth.

My nipples throbbed in their jingling clamps, tickled beyond endurance by his shirt. I tried to wriggle, tried to pull back, but he was having none of it. He made me take the full maddening effect, smacking down on my backside when my escape attempts became too blatant. It was almost impossible, but I drew on every stoic reserve I had and stood still, letting him torment me as much as he wanted to.

My tactic paid off – just as I was about to howl into his throat, he rewarded my obedience by removing the clamps. The sudden rush of blood made me squeak and dig my nails into my palms, but it was soon over.

He released my mouth and laid a line of kisses along my jaw, moving down to the collar-free part of my neck. He nipped and sucked at the soft skin there, making my sightless eyes roll back in my head. Holding me firmly at my sides, he buried his face in my breasts, kissing them all over. Even unclamped, my nipples were still very tender and a little sore. He took each one into his mouth, flicking his tongue over them in a way that both titillated and tormented, then moved back to my breasts, treating them in the same way he had my neck. I didn’t need to be able to see to know that he would leave marks. I presumed that was his intention.

I heard his leather trousers creak as he got to his knees, still holding me by my hips. He kissed my stomach all over, moving lower and lower all the time, until he reached the crease at the top of my thigh. He followed the diagonal line down, dropping kisses all the way, then repeated the action on the other side.

My forcibly-parted lips wanted to flutter, my clit swelling between them as Hux’s warm breath fanned over it. He pressed his face against my inner thigh, sucking and nipping the delicate flesh, alternating sides. Now he held me with his hands pressed into the junction of my bottom and legs. I was still upright, but if he moved any lower, I was likely to lurch forwards on my hook.

My legs were losing strength, weakened by Hux’s teasing attentions. He was so close to my open slit now; I silently prayed for him to leave my thighs alone and use his tongue where it would be most appreciated.

When he knelt back and prised my lips further open with his thumbs, my prayer lost its silent quality. I let out a helpless little moan and bucked my hips towards him.

“What’s this, Kitten?” he said, wafting warmth between my legs as he spoke. “Is that a request?”

“Just…” I breathed. “Oh…Please…”

“Full sentences, please,” he said.

Damn it, I should have kept still. He would have got there in his own time; now he was going to make me beg.

“Please will you…” Fuck, I found this _so_ difficult. I’d rather take the hardest whipping he could give than have to express these most private desires.

He held his face back, deliberately just beyond the point where I could derive pleasure from the circulation of his breath.

“Go on,” he goaded.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I wailed, pulling at the hook. “I can’t say.”

“Of course you can,” he said sternly, but I turned my pouting face away and refused to elaborate.

He stood back and retrieved something from somewhere.

The next thing I knew was a cold, flat, smooth pressure between my thighs; something rectangular and supple covering my clit.

“Oh, what…?” I shivered.

The flat, rectangular thing was tapped, gently but rhythmically, against my open lips, then turned sideways to flick at my inner thighs, before being replaced in its original location.

“You could have had my tongue here, if you’d asked nicely,” admonished Hux. “But now you’ve got this instead.”

It moved slowly backwards then forwards, gathering my wetness on its slick surface. It was some kind of riding whip, I guessed, with Hux attached to the grip end, a foot or so away from me.

Suddenly it was withdrawn, then slapped against my sensitive spread. I swayed on the hook, mouth open in a silent scream, kicking my feet in their cuffs in a vain effort to close my legs.

He put one hand on my shoulder to keep me still and repeated the action, slowly and inexorably, some half dozen times.

“Oh, it’s so…,” I quavered, somewhere around the third or fourth stroke, but he didn’t reply.

He wasn’t hitting particularly hard, but every stroke made me think my clit was going to burst into flames. The heat and smart burned through me, sending a maddening itch to every nerve ending.

“I need...” I gasped.

He rubbed the crop between my legs again.

“Need what?”

“Need you to…”

He hit me again and I yowled, forgetting that there were other people in the house, forgetting everything but the mess of dripping carnality he’d made of me.

“Say it,” he growled, tapping the crop against my mons.

“Need you…fuck me…please, sir.”

“Ah,” he said, removing the crop. He knelt again and put his mouth where the crop had been, catching my hot, swollen clit between his lips and giving it a long, sucking kiss, twisting one finger up inside me for good measure.

I sighed with abandoned rapture.

Then he stood up again, smacking his gloved palm against my outraged sex.

“Perhaps later,” he said. “If you behave yourself.”

“Ohhhh nooooo.” The words came up from the depths.

He moved around to my side, hooked one arm around my waist to steady me, then laid a series of deliberate smacks on my bottom with his free hand. Once he’d covered the whole area, he moved his fingers between my legs, rubbing my clit with the seam of one gloved finger, pushing others upwards to probe the limits of my elasticity.

He waited until I was panting and trembling, about halfway to orgasm, then he pulled out and began spanking me again.

“You’re going to ask my permission,” he said, “when you want to come.”

“Will you – ah – give it? Ow.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” he replied calmly, resuming his digital ministrations.

I twitched and ground on him, as far as I could within my constraints. He got me further this time – a good three-quarters of the way – before going back to the spanking.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to endure, but I had broken into a prickling sweat and I was pretty sure the hook was the only thing keeping me from collapsing into a heap. My clit and surrounds were still throbbing from their treatment with the crop, and the additional heat on my bottom only added to the exquisite torture.

Hux kept on spanking me until I stopped writhing and whining and just took it in silence.

As before, it did the trick.

His fingers slid right down where they were most wanted, and I knew it would take a minute at most for them to draw a seeing-stars orgasm out of me.

“Please, sir, may I come?” The request tumbled out, words merging into each other, time being of the essence.

“If you wish,” he said, his breathing more laboured now, the first sign that he was an actual humanoid and not some kind of kinky automaton. “But there’s a penalty.”

“Ohhhwhat?” Whatever it was, I was going to have to accept it. The fuse was lit. Nothing was going to put it out now.

My climax hit before he could enlighten me.

He held me tightly through it, one hand between my legs, the other on my hip, making sure I didn’t swing too wildly on my hook and damage my arm muscles.

“Oh, you perfect little deviant,” he sighed.

He placed one hand on my neck and kissed me, his slippery juiced fingers pressing into my skin, reminding me where they’d been.

He gripped my hip hard and bit down on my lip, grinding an unmistakable leather-clad hardness into my crotch. Releasing my neck, he reached over and began fidgeting with something to my right. It must have been some kind of pulley, because the hook began to lower, relieving my arms.

Once it was slack enough, he put both hands on my shoulders and pushed me slowly down, until I was on my knees. My arms were high again, trembling on their hook.

He pulled up a chair or stool or something and sat down, releasing his erection. Seconds later, his hand was in my hair, guiding my mouth over the tip of it, feeding it to me, inch by inch.

I closed my lips around it and sucked, moving slowly up and down the shaft, getting it nicely lubricated. It was surprisingly hard to do this without recourse to my hands, but I worked with what I had, using my tongue to swirl around the more sensitive areas, gauging his reactions to feel my way forwards. He gave me enough clues – a tug on my hair, a sucking in of breath, an involuntary grunt – to guide me. In a way, the blindfold made me better at this; more receptive to the subtler signals.

“Yes, yes,” he hissed, all heaving breaths and flexing hips. He was close. I smiled around his length and tugged with my lips. He yanked a fistful of my hair and thrust deep into my throat. My eyes watered and my breath hitched, but he released me before I could choke, salt-bitter liquid coating the insides of my mouth, sliding down my throat until I performed the reflexive swallow.

He had me clean him off completely with my tongue before reaching forward and unhooking my wrists. My arms shook a little as he uncuffed them, and when he removed the spreader bar cuffs, I crumpled on the floor, my limbs as useless as those of a newborn bordok.

He brought me up on to his lap and rubbed more life into my hands and feet, kissing me throughout, until I was capable of standing again.

“All right?” he whispered, tipping me off his lap and helping me to an upright position.

I nodded, flexing my wrists a bit.

“Do you need to rest for a while?”

My heart bumped. Hux had more plans, and I couldn’t begin to imagine the possible extent of them. I shook my head. I was still warm and buzzing all over, but if I went to lie down on the futon, I’d fall asleep. It seemed a shame to waste my supercharged state on dreams. Subspace was an interesting place and I wanted to spend more time there.

“Are you sure? Don’t have any foolish notions of trying to impress me with your stamina, Kitten. I need to know your limits, or this will all end in the wrong kind of tears. And then I’ll have to punish you.” He sighed. “Again.”

My voice, when I found it, was cracked.

“I’m all right, honestly,” I said. “I might need something to ward off dehydration, that’s all.”

“It shall be done,” he said, and I heard his boots tread off, then the glug of a water cooler. On his return, he put the cup to my lips. I drank deep, relishing the crystal coolness as it washed away the taste of him.

“Is that enough?” he asked. “Shall I get you another?”

“No thanks.” I tried a smile, but it felt wrong when I couldn’t see him. “Would you mind…would it be OK to take the blindfold off now? Sir?” I added, figuring it would give me a greater chance of success.

“Since you ask so nicely,” he said, turning me around by my shoulders and untying the knot. “Besides,” he said, bending to kiss the back of my neck above the collar. “I want to see your tears.”

 _Oh lord_.

I stiffened, and he laughed softly, massaging my shoulders. My vision was still blurred, and the dungeon was so dark I could make out nothing but indistinct shapes. I had no idea what Hux was guiding me towards when he steered me by my shoulders away from the hook.

“Now,” he said, pulling up by some kind of stepped bench, presumably the one he’d mentioned earlier. Both steps were padded, and leather straps hung from the sides. “This is going to be therapeutic. For both of us. Kneel. That’s it.”

He nudged me down, so I knelt on the lower step, then put a hand between my shoulder blades, making me place my upper body flat on the surface above. He passed the strap over the backs of my legs and buckled it, then repeated the process around my waist. Finally, he used the blindfold to bind my wrists together, placing them neatly below my shoulder blades. I was completely secured, and beginning to feel the fear.

“When you say therapeutic…” I said nervously.

He came around to face me and crouched so his eyes were level with mine, cupping my face in his hands.

“I think you’ve carried a burden of guilt around with you for all this time,” he said. As soon as the words were out, the tears he had mentioned pooled in my eyes. Were these the ones he meant? Swallowing, I nodded.

“Guilt for leaving me,” he continued. “Guilt for taking a child from its father. And more than that – I think you feel in some way responsible for…” He paused, looking up at the ceiling as if needing some strength to say the next words. “For what happened in the Hosnian System.”

“Yes,” I whispered, blinking out the tears.

“Well, you shouldn’t,” he said.

He let go of me briefly and moved out of my line of sight, retrieving something. When he returned, I saw that he was holding a long, slender, flexible rod. He whisked it through the air, making a swishing noise that curdled my blood.

“This,” he said, “is going to whip the guilt out of you, and the residual anger out of me. Six strokes to wipe the slate clean. They will hurt you – believe me, nothing I’ve done to you before will come close to this - but not as much as carrying that festering weight of self-loathing and recrimination will.”

I girded myself. Six. It wasn’t many. It would be over before I knew it.

“Will you take them for me?” he asked, mopping up my tear-stained cheeks with the edge of a finger.

“I’ll try,” I said.

“Brave girl,” he said. He kissed me sweetly, then moved away to my side. If I twisted my neck, I could still see him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to watch the way he was lining himself up, practising his swing, one eye narrowed as if peering through a gunsight. “If you really can’t take them,” he said, tapping the rod against my rear, “tell me you hate me.”

“I can’t say that,” I objected.

“You will if you have to,” he said. “Now, prepare yourself. Try not to tense up – it won’t help you in the least.”

I unclenched my jaw, but it felt so counterintuitive I clenched it again straightaway.

He laid the rod along the centre of my bottom; it felt cool against the remnants of warmth from the earlier spanking.

“Embrace the pain,” he said softly, “and picture it washing away the guilt. See it in your mind’s eye. Six little stains of remorse to rub out, one by one. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

I was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux may have found a new niche in life. Madam Rama ought to offer him a job.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading and commenting. More dungeon action now, brought to you with the assistance of Goldfrapp's Black Cherry album - always inspiring.

“One,” he said, “is for leaving me.”

The stroke landed even before I’d processed the swishing sound, right across the part of my bottom that jutted out the most.

Had it hit me? Did it hurt? For a fraction of a second, I could almost believe it didn’t. But that fraction of a second was a cruel fraud. White heat flared along the line and outwards, searing so that I tried to rear up, kicking my legs in vain.

“Oh no, that’s too much,” I gasped. “I can’t…”

“It’s gone now,” he said, rubbing my flank soothingly. “You left me, you paid for it. All gone.”

“It…really… _hurts_ ,” I ground out.

He waited for a moment. He was waiting for me to say those words. I considered it, but I pushed them back. Excruciating as this pain might be, it wasn’t as bad as the pain I’d felt when I left him. I wouldn’t have swapped.

He drew an audible breath.

“Two is for stealing a tie-fighter – and, furthermore, wrecking the flight controls beyond repair when you crash landed it. Those things are expensive, and Leader Snoke was not happy about it.”

“That was Tessi-AHHH!”

The second stroke made its presence felt, just below the first. The line of fire seemed to tighten and harden after the initial impact, so the pain didn’t fade but simply changed in character, throbbing on without pity.

“IIIIIII,” I moaned, but I couldn’t finish the phrase. I rocked back and forth, as far as possible given my restrained condition, and worked on finding my breath again.

I knew the worst now. And I was one third of the way through.

“Tie-fighter paid for in full,” he said. “Another stain off your conscience.”

I’d never felt guilty about the tie-fighter, so this wasn’t strictly true, but his words were a kind of balm all the same, and I accepted them greedily.

“Keep still now,” he admonished, putting a hand on my coccyx to stop me rocking. “Or I’ll have to tighten the straps.”

I shut my eyes and held everything. I could stop this if I wanted to. Why wasn’t I stopping it?

“Three is for all the years I’ve spent without you.”

The stripe was scored low, just on the underhang of my buttocks, and it was much more than skin deep.

“Sssssss,” I hissed, and some part of my brain recognised that I’d been starting the word ‘Sithshitter’ – a juvenile swear word I’d neither heard nor used since I was about thirteen. Where the hell had that come from?

I let out a hysterical little laugh.

“Something funny?” Hux didn’t sound best pleased.

“N-no, sir,” I quavered, feeling the mark swell like a line of bee stings.

“You can take a break, if necessary. Take the last three later,” he offered.

I shook my head. It was half done. It could be over in a minute.

“I need you to be honest with me,” he said. “Can you take this?”

“I can take it,” I said, questioning my sanity as the words passed my lips. “I want to.”

“I’m going to trust you,” he said, stroking my thigh with the rod. “Don’t make me regret it. Ready?”

I nodded.

“Four,” he said, “is for all the years I’ve spent without my son.”

I expected this one to be hard, and it was – almost too hard.

“Oh, shit, you’re so…ahhh, no,” I cried as it burned into me.

“I’m so what?” he asked.

“So…cruel,” I whispered, but cruel was exactly how I had felt when I held Kirin in my arms for the first time and reflected that Hux would never have this moment.

That was when the tears hit me.

“That’s it,” said Hux, encouraging them, rubbing up and down my spine. “Let it go. You did what you had to. I don’t blame you any more. All right? Shall I go on?”

I nodded. Nothing was going to make me stop him now. I was ready, braced for the pain, wanting to take it inside me. I’d crossed over some sort of threshold, and now I felt as if I could withstand twenty more strokes. Doubtless it was the endorphins thinking for me, but I was past analysing.

“Five is for thinking that you were in any way to blame for any of my actions in pursuit of First Order goals. And I want you to absorb that thought well before I lay the stroke, Marillia. In _any_ way to blame. Because I can tell you categorically that you were not. Understood?”

I nodded, flinching pre-emptively. “Yes, sir,” I sniffed.

The sweet agony set me free; I was guiltless and weightless. I was flying.

“Oh, I…” I sobbed.

Hux held the rod along the stripe he’d just laid, expectant, tense. Waiting for me to say the words.

“I love you,” I said.

I heard him swallow, his breathing a little desperate.

“What are you saying to me?” he said, and his voice was tight, stemming a tide. “You should hate me. You _should_ hate me.”

“I’ve tried,” I said. “And I can’t.”

He didn’t reply. I turned my face so that my tears ran along the side of it, making pools and drips on the leather padding beneath my cheek.

“I want the sixth,” I said.

“What?” I seemed to have shaken him out of a reverie.

“You were going to give me six. I’ve only had five.”

“You want it?”

“Yes.”

“All right then. Six is for…what is it for?...It’s for luck. Because we both need an awful lot of that.”

Let pain turn to luck, yes, then we would be fortunate indeed.

He laid the final stroke diagonally across the other five, reawakening all of the fading sting in one blazing move.

Catharsis had been achieved. I was cleansed and pure, an old layer stripped forcibly away, exposing a tender new self to the world. Or perhaps I was delirious.

I heard the cane thud to the rubberised floor. Hux knelt behind me and kissed each line of pulsating heat, then pressed his face between my thighs and kissed me there as well.

“I have to have you,” he said, unbuckling the strap that held my legs down.

I hadn’t realised, in amongst the competing, conflicting sensations that roared around my body, that I was so wet. But Hux’s fingers proved it with ease. He pushed three of them inside, a test conducted as a matter of urgency, unfastening his trousers with the other hand.

“Do you want it, Marillia?” he asked gruffly, pulling out his fingers in order to line up their replacement.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I whispered.

He mounted from behind and was sheathed in the blink of a still-teary eye. He took it fast and hard, adminstering extra punishment to my sore behind every time his pelvis slapped into it, but it made everything sharper and more piquant. He dug his fingers hard into my flesh, first on my shoulders, then at my hips, as if he thought I wasn’t strapped down and might slither away at any moment.

There was no chance of that. All I could do was lie face down, my hands still tethered in the small of my back, and submit to him.

I became a blur, all my outlines and points of definition melting into a mess of sex. Hux was riding me into the ground, but it was what I craved and the unforgiving friction against my tenderest spots forced me into orgasm before I knew what was happening.

He clutched my helpless hands while I gave in to it, whispering things I couldn’t make out through my own vocalisations, things that could be brutal or loving, and were probably both.

His words became sounds, made through gritted teeth, then an agonised sigh as he abandoned all control and released inside me. He laid his head between my shoulder blades and let out a shuddering moan. Our fingers were still entwined. I synchronised my breathing with his, coming down into a blissful state of calm exhaustion.

We lay like that for a while, emerging slowly into consciousness, while our sweat dried and our aching limbs twitched.

Eventually, Hux climbed off me and unbuckled the waist strap, then untied my wrists.

I couldn’t contemplate moving, so it was just as well he was able to help me to my feet and carry me into our little secret room. He lowered me on to the futon – on my side, because lying on my back wasn’t going to appeal for a while - and knelt there, looking down at me as if he’d never seen me before. It was a little unnerving.

I reached a wobbly hand up to touch his face.

“What?” I whispered.

He put his own hand over mine, his expression solemn.

“Why would you say that?” he said.

“Why would I say what?”

“That you love me? When I’ve hurt you so badly. When I’m nothing but…” He swallowed. “I don’t know what. But nothing that’s good enough for you, at any rate.”

“Is this self-doubt?” I said, trying to get a smile on to my dry, swollen lips. “Should I be concerned for the balance of the universe.”

“You should be concerned for your _self_ ,” he said. “I have nothing to offer you but pain.”

“What if I like pain?” I said, slurring with fatigue. “Look, I can’t have this conversation now. I can barely put words in order. Can we just leave it at ‘I love you and there’s nothing I can do about it’ and get some rest, please?”

Hux drew a long breath, shutting his eyes.

“Yes,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. Wait there a moment.”

I crumpled back into a foetal position on my side while Hux left the room. I didn’t want to think about what he’d just said, so I didn’t. I didn’t want Hux to be fragile; I couldn’t cope with that right now. The iron-willed man who swept all resistance aside was the one I’d signed up for, and the one he had to be, if we stood any chance of making a bearable future.

It wasn’t that I doubted my own strength – after taking that caning, I was more sure of it than ever – but I’d spent five years being strong for Kirin. I had to make Hux understand that he could rely on me.

He returned with a bowl of water and a towel, which he put on the floor.

When he started to look in the drawers again, I quivered with alarm. Surely he didn’t have _more_ of this in mind?

He noticed my apprehension and chuckled softly. “I’m looking for something to soothe you, Kitten, don’t worry. I’m not looking for further implements of exquisite torture. Though I might be getting some ideas…hmm…what would one use _this_ for?”

When he turned back to me, he was unrolling a rubber sheet.

“Get up a minute,” he said. Obligingly, I scooted aside so he could lay the sheet down over the futon. “It’s certainly well-equipped down here. Rubber sheeting was only used in the torture cells back in the Unknown Regions. Lie back down, on your stomach.”

I crawled on to the cold, slick surface and collapsed into a grateful heap.

Hux lined up some bottles and jars beside me and went to work, dipping his now-ungloved fingers in one of them. He ran his fingertips lightly along the highest of the cane stripes. I hissed and tensed a little as he made contact.

“It’s all right,” he said softly. “This will make it better. Well, not completely better. You’ll feel them for a few days, I expect. But this will help.”

I winced through it, trusting him to do what was best. He covered both cheeks, his fingers bumping over the ridges where the lines had swollen, easing the edge off the sting.

Within a minute or so, I was sighing with blessed relief.

I ached all over – not quite head to toe, but there didn’t seem to be very much of me unaffected. From my skin to my bones, Hux had impressed himself on me; he might as well have given me that tattoo he’d mentioned. The tenderness with which he treated me now was all the more striking in contrast.

“I hope it did the trick, at least,” he said, rubbing in the salve. “I hope all the guilt has gone now.”

“I’ll try not to dwell on any of that again,” I promised.

“Good. I forbid it. If I catch you blaming yourself for any element of our past from now on, the entire process will be repeated. But harder.”

I shuddered. Was that even possible?

“I do love you,” I said, as he let the ointment soak into my upper thighs. “And I’m going to carry on loving you, no matter what. It’s just the way things are. You’ll have to accept it.”

His healing fingers paused for a moment, suspended above me.

“I just wish I understood it,” he said.

“I daresay you do. I wish _I_ did. For people like us, it takes a long time to learn that not everything _can_ be understood, or broken down to logical component parts. But this is one of those things.”

His fingers descended once more.

“You’re right,” he said. “I detest questions without answers.”

“Which makes you spectacularly unfitted to run an empire composed of multiple civilisations,” I said. “Your First Order ‘one size fits all’ approach was doomed to failure before it began.”

“Don’t lecture me, Marillia,” he reproved. “I think you can take it as read that I’ve worked all this out for myself.” He broke off, resuming in a more wistful tone. “I do think _some_ of it would have worked, though.”

“I bet the shuttles would have run on time,” I said, yawning.

He rolled me on to my side and began dabbing some other stuff – arnica, perhaps – on to my breasts, neck and inner thighs, grimacing slightly at his handiwork.

“Dear me, you have been ravaged,” he said, but there wasn’t an awful lot of apology in his tone.

“Mm,” I said. “No regrets.”

He finished treating the marks and nudged me off the rubber sheet, which he then sponged down with the warm water before rolling it back up and putting it away.

I fell face-forward back on to the futon. I was capable of nothing else.

He lay down too, propping himself on an elbow beside me, and unbuckled the collar.

“Really?” he said. “ _No_ regrets?”

I turned my face to him.

“You don’t just mean about what we did in there, do you?”

He shook his head.

“I can’t help wondering why you’re being so…” He shrugged. “I expected to have a much harder time convincing you to help me. I have so little to offer you, and you have a life of your own.”

“You offer me far more than you did as a General of the First Order,” I replied after some thought. “Even though, at that time, you probably thought you were about the most eligible man in the galaxy. I prefer you as you are now.”

“A fugitive? With nothing to call my own except…I hope…you?”

“Yes.”

He cleared his throat. “I hope you realise that…I mean…if this all goes wrong and I’m captured, I’ll tell them I held you hostage. I won’t see you dragged down with me.”

I put my hand on his. “I think I knew that.”

“Good.” He hummed and hawed again, apparently floundering in this emotional deep water. “And…also, it goes without saying really, but I ought to say it. I love you. But you knew that.”

“It’s always nice to hear it.”

“Yes. And I know I told you back at Starkiller Base, but back then it was all about what I wanted for myself. I loved you, but in a very selfish way. I’m trying…I mean, it’s not easy…but I really am _trying_ to be…”

“Shh, I know you are.” His suffering was too much for me; I had to make it stop.

“So I hope you don’t think what we just did was all about what I wanted,” he blurted, seemingly on a roll now with the unburdening of heart stuff. “Because – obviously it was, I mean, I enjoyed every second of it – but I wanted to fulfil your er, darkest and deepest desires. I wanted to make sure there was, you know, a…I don’t know.” He gave up at last. “I’m gibbering. I’m sorry. But I love you. There, does any of that make any sense at all?” He put a hand over his reddening face.

I leant over, wincing slightly, and kissed his brow.

“It’s very liberating,” I whispered, “when you realise that not everything has to make sense.”

He groaned. “You keep saying that.”

“I know, but it’s important. I mean, I was someone who needed an algorithm for absolutely everything in life. Maybe it was a reaction to losing my parents in such horrible circumstances – I needed order really badly after that. The first time I deviated from this mindset was when I fell in love with you. I mean, there was no code for it. I was absolutely lost. The same when Kirin was born. So I’ve just had to go with it and hope for the best. And the best is really, really good, you know. So it’s OK. It’s OK for certain areas of life to be a little bit chaotic.”

Hux squeezed my fingers tightly. “But I like order,” he sighed.

“I know you do. And you can impose some kind of order on our relationship if you want – I mean, that’s what you were just doing in there, wasn’t it? But relationships aren’t always predictable and you’ll just have to learn to live with it.”

“You’re my empire now,” he said.

“And you can be my emperor.”

We slept.


	10. Chapter 10

We were awoken by a rap on the door.

Hux leapt up as if on springs, reaching already for that bloody blaster. I put a hand on his elbow, trying to prevent him.

“It’s probably only…”

“Hush,” he ordered, shaking off my hand, his fingers stretching towards the gun.

“It’s Rama. I’ve brought you some dinner.”

Before I could cover myself, or force Hux’s blaster arm down, she entered the room, alone with a tray.

Hux waited for her to kick the door shut behind her before lowering his firearm.

“I do wish you would put that away,” she said to him. “But that’s men all over, isn’t it? Much too attached to their weapons. Don’t you think, Marillia – oh!”

I was still scrabbling to find the bedcovers, which we hadn’t bothered with in our state of post-coital enervation. I don’t suppose Madam Rama was shy of naked female bodies, but mine had some unusual features at this time.

I plucked at the bedsheet, unable to turn around and face her, aware that she had a glorious eyeful of my well-striped rear.

“Well, that explains _this_ ,” she said, throwing the discarded cane down on the floor beside me. “I thought we might have particularly kinky mice. But it was you two. Those are lovely marks, by the way. I suppose you’re the artist?”

While she addressed Hux, I managed to wind the sheet around myself. Trying to find a comfortable position to sit or kneel in provided more of a challenge.

Hux answered by putting his gun down and smiling tightly. His cheeks were beautifully roseate; I wasn’t sure I’d seen him blush like that before.

“You have the knack. I’d offer you a trial as my dungeon-master, but I’m afraid you’d attract the wrong kind of attention. Mind you, First Order role-play is quite hot right now.”

“Thank you for bringing the food,” rasped Hux.

“Don’t mention it.” She bent and placed the tray on the ground. “Do I get a word of gratitude for the use you made of my facilities too?”

“I’m sorry about that,” I ventured. “We should have asked your permission.”

She waved a lace-gloved hand.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. As long as you leave everything the way you found it, you can do what you like down here. Just be careful not to scream too loud. I don’t want any awkward questions.”

“Thank you,” I said, holding the sheet up to my neck, curled in a kind of sideways sitting stance.

“I have a request for you,” she said, turning to Hux. “Can you kindly stop threatening to shoot my maid? She’s refusing to come down here, and I have better things to do than wait on escaped mass-murderers. Do you think that would be possible?”

She flashed Hux a dark red smile.

He glared for a moment, then nodded.

“I’ll need to know it’s her, though,” he said. “Or you. Can you knock three times, then pause, then knock once more when you need to come in?”

“Not a problem,” said Rama. “I’ve been in touch with some friends who specialise in fake ID, by the way. You should have new papers within a few days.”

“That’s great,” I said.

“They don’t come cheap,” she cautioned. “Fifty thousand credits apiece.”

I gulped, but it was no more than I had expected.

“OK,” I said. “I can arrange that.”

“How many days is a few days?” asked Hux.

Rama shrugged. “Three, four, five,” she hazarded.

“It’s OK,” I said. “We need time to sort this code thing out anyway.”

Hux’s dark expression lifted.

“All right,” he said. “But I want to be out of here within the week. The longer we stay, the harder it will be to go back out.”

“Everyone happy?” said Rama. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to gather a few supplies for tonight’s dungeon booking. Please, eat. Don’t mind me.”

She set about opening and closing drawers while Hux and I fed ourselves. She left with an armful of floggers, shackles and various items I couldn’t identify, turning to wink at me before shutting the door.

“Don’t let him wear my whips out on you,” she said. “Or I’ll bill you for them.”

“How embarrassing,” I cringed, once she was gone. “Ugh.”

“She wasn’t exactly shocked,” said Hux, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “She probably does a lot worse to her clients.”

“I know but…”

“I’m the one who should be embarrassed,” said Hux. “For all she knows, it wasn’t consensual. She might be thinking I’ve done that to you against your will.”

“Do you really think so? No, she wouldn’t think that. Would she?”

“Probably not, but she might. Anyway, it doesn’t particularly matter what she thinks, does it? This is a temporary hideout, until we can get these false papers delivered. We’ll pay her whatever she wants and go. I won’t leave you out of pocket for all this, by the way. My mother can plug the hole in your finances, once all this is sorted out.”

“Once all this is sorted out,” I repeated, staring at the grain stew on my spoon. “What will it look like? The sorting out? How will it end?”

Hux sighed. “I wish I could tell you. So much will depend on Kylo Ren and his circle.”

“And you were never the best of friends.”

“No, but he will appreciate what I have to offer. He would be a fool not to.”

“I’ll start work on the coded transmissions right after I finish this,” I resolved, scooping up the last remnants of my meal. “We need to know what progress is being made on the manhunt.”

“Mm,” said Hux, pushing aside his empty bowl. “That’s a matter of urgency. But there’s something higher on my priority list just now.”

I blinked at him, trying to work out what could be more urgent than getting to Kylo Ren without being captured.

“Do you think Madam Rama’s a threat to us?” I said.

His lips curved upwards.

“She may be,” he said. “But that’s not what I meant.” He took my bowl from my hands.

“So what did you – oh.”

I only had to read his face to understand his meaning.

“Wil, I really think I’m broken,” I said, but even as the words passed my lips, my sex pulsed into life.

“I can fix you.” His forehead bumped against mine, our noses nudging.

“I’m not a droid,” I whispered, but I let his lips catch mine in a breathless sequence of kisses.

He laid me down, careful not to irritate my welts by letting them chafe the bedding, his hand on the dip of my waist, never breaking our lip-to-lip contact.

“I’m well aware of that,” he said, releasing my mouth, his voice low and honeyed. “If you were a droid, you wouldn’t have that telltale little flush on your cheek and that dreamy look in your eye. I can read your signals like you read Scintiran Tertiary.”

He had me there. Weary and used up as my body was, it responded to Hux like a flower to a sun. There was no override for this command.

“After five years of famine,” I said. “I seem to be in feast mode.”

He curled his lip and kissed each darkened patch on my neck.

“When Rama saw what I’d done to you,” he said, “it turned me on almost more than I could stand.”

He lowered his lips to the little red strawberry-marks on my breasts.

“You’re really quite primitive underneath that fastidious exterior, aren’t you?” I said, struggling now to form words, as his tongue poked at my stiffened nipples.

“Mm hmm,” he agreed, his voice vibrating over my skin as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucked on it, then released it. “I like to show off my spoils. Make sure everyone knows what’s mine. In this case – you.”

“Would you feel the same if it was another man checking out my arse?”

He ran his fingertip along the angriest of the cane stripes, making me catch a breath and bury my face in his chest.

“No, I’d have to kill him,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “Or at least, blind him.”

“It’s not like you to be so inconsistent,” I teased.

“I know. But when she looked at your bottom and knew what I’d done to you…” He sucked in a hissing breath and moaned it out again. “I can’t explain it, but sweet Sith almighty, it’s given me the raging horn.”

I didn’t need him to tell me. He had taken off his leather trousers earlier on, and now wore only the black silk shirt, the lower part of which was tented in a most incriminating way.

He pulled my leg over his hip, the better to slide his erection between my under lips.

“It reminds me of when we were back on Starkiller,” he murmured, “and I’d watch you at your console, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt when my traces were all over you, knowing that everybody else on the deck was speculating on what I’d been doing to you. It made me want to march over there and have you over your desk while everyone looked on.”

I flexed my pelvis wantonly, encouraging him to glide his length back and forth, to bathe it in my juices until it glistened.

“I often wonder if your crew realised that your immaculate uniform concealed six feet and one inch of pure filth,” I panted, letting out a little mew as he slid one questing finger between my bum cheeks.

He growled.

“And you were purer than the Starkiller snow, were you? I think not. That little code bank mouse had _teeth_.” He grazed his own along the side of my neck.

I arched my back and wriggled closer, inviting the tip of him inside me. He held my sore thighs apart and took the hint, inching up carefully, watching me for any sign of pain or discomfort.

“Are you sure you can take this?” he whispered, his lips brushing mine.

“Not sure at all, but I don’t care. Don’t stop.”

He rolled over on his back and I lay on top of him, the pair of us simply taking in the feeling of connection, breathing in and out, heart to heart, mouth to mouth.

He wrapped his arms around me so I couldn’t move, teasing me with his stillness while I tried to grind and clench my tired muscles around him.

“Nice and slow, Kitten,” he breathed into my ear. “What’s the rush?”

He rolled me back on to my side and began to move inside me, at a pace I first thought languid but soon realised had its own advantages. It might not have built the friction of our earlier, more frenetic coupling, but it made me concentrate on the details; focus right down on the different sensations each withdrawal and resheathing aroused.

And I was completely absorbed in him, and him in me. His dilated pupils, his pearly-sheened skin, the incipient gold-red stubble already sprouting where he had shaved it off; I drank it all in and gave whatever I had in return. It was a kind of prayer; an act of mutual worship.

I don’t know how long it took – it could have been minutes or hours – but my orgasm felt like light radiating outwards. He kissed the tears I didn’t know I’d spilled.

“My love, my love, my love,” he said, and gave the light back to me.

I lay in his arms afterwards, paralysed with fear. What if he was taken from me again? What if this was no more than a beautiful respite before the pain and loss resumed?

He slept peacefully while I stared at the naked lightbulb on the ceiling. At some point, the dungeon booking started and my contemplations were interrupted by thuds and thwacks and strangled cries.

About an hour later, Madam Rama gave our agreed knock and returned the implements to their drawers. She looked down with dispassionate interest at the sleeping Hux, then at me, lying on my stomach beside him.

“You’ve got yourself in deep,” she remarked in a whisper.

“I know,” I said.

“I was serious when I offered you a job. I’m even more serious now I know what you’re into. Very difficult to get girls who’ll go further than a bit of slap and tickle, and I have clients clamouring for them.”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t do this with anyone else.”

She smiled ruefully. “Ah well. Worth a try. Let’s hope my new Domme gets them battering down my door. I’m good, but I’m getting on. New blood is always welcome.” She shut the drawer. “Well, goodnight.”

Once she left, I took Hux’s stolen comms device out of my backpack and started to listen, noting in my head the different sequences. Hours passed in a blur of characters, none of them making any sense, but just as I felt I was beginning to make headway, I fell asleep.

For the next two days, I worked hard on decoding. At least, when Hux kept his hands off me, which wasn’t that often. He seemed determined to make up for lost time, and we had lost a lot of time. Occasionally I would try on one of the outrageous outfits I’d been given, only to have it removed within minutes. Hux went easy on the spanking side of things, as I was still bruised from the caning, but all kinds of cuffs and ropes were experimented with, not to mention frequent exercises in orgasm denial or orgasm on demand.

In the long nights, I recounted every detail of Kirin’s life to Hux, in a haphazard chronological order that sometimes skipped around when I remembered more.

While I listened to the mysterious broadcasts, Hux tried everything he could to stop himself pacing around the tiny cell-like space. I could see that the confinement was difficult for him, and he confessed early on that it reminded him of Demron, but without the constant surveillance by camera and human eye.

“What do you think they’ll do to you, if they catch you?” I asked, when I couldn’t let the question fester just behind the forefront of my consciousness for another moment.

Hux, fidgeting with a leather-stranded flogger he’d found in one of the drawers, swished it over the back of his hand and watched with interest as a stain of pink spread across his skin.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I imagine it would be done in public. They’ve been keen to make an example of me since they caught me the first time. My descent into madness spoiled their fun.”

“Not fun exactly,” I said gently. “Everyone was hungry for justice after the Hosnian System.”

“Yes, and I understand that,” he said. “Of course I do.” His fingers plaited the slender strands with compulsive speed. “But I want to make reparation for it. I only hope I can do it in a way that benefits the galaxy – by ridding it of Snoke – rather than in a way that only ends in misery for all of us.”

“Do you think they would listen to you, if you told them about your missing memories?”

“They might, but they might not. Giving myself up isn’t an option, if that’s what you’re driving at.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said, but all the same there was a disloyal little voice in my head that wondered if it wouldn’t be the best way. I knew, in moments of lucidity, that this was because I longed to see Kirin again and our parting was likely to be much longer if we did things the way Hux wanted. “I just think that surely they’d be interested in finding Snoke. You have a strong bargaining position.”

“Which isn’t what they want,” snipped Hux, annoyed at this line of discussion. “They don’t want me in any kind of strong position. They want me weak and powerless; images of me breaking down and pleading for forgiveness that they can beam around the universe. I will never give them the satisfaction. I’d kill myself first.”

“Oh, don’t you _dare_ say that! Don’t you ever leave us that way.”

He wrapped the flogger strands around his fist and stared at me, taking in the passion and anger I’d just let slip.

“All right,” he said quietly. “I won’t kill myself. But I’m not giving myself up, not until I’ve done what I broke out to do.”

I nodded, swallowing, aware of the ghost of hope that mocked me so constantly these days. Suddenly something flashed in my brain – a connection made.

“Oh!” I reached for the comms device. “I think…something’s just occurred…let me…” Another message scrolled across the screen. “Yes!”

“Have you cracked it?” Hux put down the flogger and peered over my shoulder.

“Something I thought was random…actually isn’t…” I looked up at him, shining with excitement at my breakthrough.

“So what are they saying?”

“This one says…’Contact made with RO5567…planetfall by twenty twenty.’” I clapped my hands, laughing.

“If only we knew what it meant,” said Hux, a little dampeningly. “Who’s RO5567? And which planet?”

“Well, never mind, we’ll get more out of them now.”

“I know. Well done. I knew I could count on my brilliant little code mouse,” he said, kissing my cheek, then my lips.

Our excitement was curtailed by Rama’s knock. I put the comms device under the pillow and pulled the covers over me.

“Only me,” she said, swanning in. “My new Domme starts tonight – I’ll set out a good selection of toys, as I’m not sure what she’ll go for. Extra, super quiet when she’s working, please. I haven’t told her about you, obviously.”

“OK,” I said, my stomach fluttering. What if we gave ourselves away?

“In other news, your fake IDs should be ready tomorrow, so I’ll need the cash upfront.”

I reached into my backpack for the roll of banknotes I kept in there. It hurt, but I peeled off a hundred thousand credits and handed them over. She raised her eyebrow.

“Bed and board?” she said.

I gave her a thousand more.

“That’ll cover it for the time you’ve been here,” she said. “But I’ll want more before you leave.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Hux, not attempting to disguise his contempt.

“Plus compensation for having to deal with you,” she said to him. “Guilt by association isn’t a pleasant feeling.”

“Just invoice us at the appropriate time,” he drawled.

She turned on her spike heel and stalked out.

“We owe her a lot,” I reminded him uneasily.

“Well, we’ll certainly be paying her in full,” he said. “Come on, let’s see if there are any more messages.”

But there was nothing, and we sat staring at a screen that didn’t yield any further information, until the dungeon door slammed and steps were heard coming down the stairs.

“The new Domme,” I whispered.

Hux pulled me down and spooned into me while we lay, quiet as mice, listening to the indistinct voices and strange noises on the other side.

The female voice came near, strident and loud on just the other side of our partition.

“I don’t care what you’ve done with her. You’re with me now.”

There was a loud slapping sound and a wretched male cry.

“Do you understand me, you whining little bitch?”

Hux was stiff as a board, and I turned to him, my eyes wide.

“That sounds like…”

“It can’t be,” he mouthed.

The voice boomed again.

“You don’t get away with that kind of disrespect with Mistress Phasma.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we ready for Mistress Phasma!? Read on...

“But she’s dead!” mouthed Hux, scrambling to his knees and straining his ear towards the door.

“Is she? She doesn’t sound very dead.” I winced as another sharp slap split the air, together with a tirade of very Phasma-sounding abuse.

“She has to be…she went up with Starkiller. This can’t be her.”

“What then? A soundalike, who just happened on the name?”

“Perhaps.” Hux paused, listening to more of the interplay between the Domme and her client. She couldn’t have sounded more like Phasma if you’d transplanted the erstwhile Stormtrooper captain’s voice box into her throat. “She _really_ does sound like her.”

“Get on your knees,” ordered the Domme. “I’ve commanded legions of troops – do you really think a snivelling little bitch like you is going to present any kind of disciplinary challenge to me?”

“This is _weird_ ,” I said. “How would she know about Phasma? Is she famous in some way? Or is this just the freakiest coincidence of all time?”

“I’m going to give you a damn good thrashing,” vowed the Domme. “Oh shit!”

The sentiment was echoed in our little hidey-hole, precipitated by an unexpected power cut that cast us all into darkness.

“Fuck, the fuse box is in here,” I whispered. “Do you think she knows?”

“I’m looking for it now,” was Hux’s tense reply. “Keep still or I’ll trip over you. It’s in the far corner, I think…”

I crouched in breathless silence, wondering if my heartbeat was really as loud as it seemed to me.

“Let me just check…” said the Domme, her voice close, then closer. Her hand must be on the door handle.

I leapt across the room to grab the handle from the inside, preventing her from entering, but I was too late. The door opened and a pointy toe made harsh contact with my knee, causing me to cry out, while the Domme tripped and fell heavily across me and on to the crumpled bedsheets.

She was still falling when Hux, having located the fuse box, shed light upon us once more.

The three of us locked eyes in a moment of endless, stretching, shocked silence.

“Are you all right?” called a timid voice from outside.

“Get out!” roared Phasma – for the rubber-corseted blonde glaring up from the futon could be none other. “Get upstairs, get your clothes on and get your money back from the maid.”

“Are you sure?”

“GET! OUT!”

Ear defenders would have been a blessing at that point. The whips and chains rattled in their drawers.

The client didn’t wait to find out the consequences of disobedience – obviously he wasn’t as kinky as all that. Hurried footsteps took the stairs two at a time and slammed the door at the top.

“I see you’ve found your niche in life,” snarked Hux, which was probably not the best opening line in the circumstances.

Phasma sat bolt upright, putting a hand to her apparently bruised hip with a grimace.

“Who the _hell_ do you think you are?” she demanded. “And what the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“I’m more interested in your apparent resurrection,” said Hux. “How did you survive Starkiller? Or are you some kind of clone?”

“What do you care?” she said belligerently.

“I don’t. I’m just curious.”

She stared at him for a moment, a slow smile crossing her face.

“You really don’t want to upset me,” she said. “I think you should be working a little bit harder on keeping me sweet, _General_.”

“Or what?” said Hux. “You’ll go running to the authorities? Do they know who you are? I’m willing to bet they have no idea.”

Phasma scowled.

“Shall we start this over again?” I offered desperately. “And keep things civil this time? I’m sure we can all help each other.”

Phasma turned to look at me.

“Marillia!” she said, as if noticing me for the first time. “It’s you. Good lord. I never thought I’d see you again. Well, or him either.”

“Likewise,” I said, trying a conciliatory smile. “You’re looking great, by the way. Wow.”

“You’re looking remarkably well too,” she said, “considering General Hux claimed to have killed you.”

She looked back at him. He chewed the inside of his lip in silence.

“I always wondered about that,” she continued. “Given that it was the same day Tessia hotfooted it with that tie-fighter. Such a coincidence.”

“Tessia rescued me,” I said. “But Hux never intended to kill me anyway. Neither of them knew the other’s plan.”

Phasma nodded. “Makes much more sense than the official version. How you kept it from Snoke and Kylo Ren, though, I can’t imagine.” She aimed the comment at Hux, who merely twitched his cheekbones, narrowing his eyes. “You are truly inscrutable.” She clapped her hands, looking from Hux to me and back again. “Well, here we are.”

“Two of us back from the dead, and one of us on the run,” I said.

“You broke out, then?” said Phasma. “Excuse my ignorance; I never watch the news bulletins any  more. Far too depressing.”

“Yes, I broke out,” said Hux. “And I don’t have any plans to return to captivity, so you’ll excuse me if I…”

In the course of the earlier confusion, he had managed to lay his hands on the blaster, and he pointed this now at Phasma’s head.

She raised her hands swiftly. “Don’t!” she exclaimed, along with a similar remonstration from me.

“Give me one good reason,” he challenged.

“Because it’s murder,” I suggested, but he didn’t take any notice of that.

“Because I might be able to help you,” said Phasma. “I have money. I have contacts. For Sith’s sake, put the gun down, Hux, and let’s talk about this.”

“Tell me how you survived Starkiller,” he said, keeping the blaster levelled.

“I was thrown into the trash compactor,” she said, and Hux laughed.

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said crossly. “By a bloody wookiee, set on me by FN-2187, of all people.”

“By…so…was it _you_ who lowered the shields?” Hux was appalled.

“They had me at gunpoint, General,” she said. It was weird to hear him called ‘General’ again. I suppose she couldn’t think what else to call him. “I had no choice.”

“You prized your own skin above my superweapon?” hissed Hux.

This wasn’t a useful conversation to be having, I sensed, but his indignation was beyond suppression.

“I’m afraid I did,” she said robustly. “And so would you have done.”

“ _I would not!”_ he countered. “My life’s work!”

“Oh come on, General,” she derided. “Don’t be so dramatic. Your ‘life’s work’. What were you – thirty? Thirty one?”

“Thirty two, actually,” he said, glaring.

“It doesn’t _matter_ ,” I interrupted their stand-off. “It’s all gone now. Starkiller’s gone, the First Order’s gone. The galaxy would be looking very different if Starkiller hadn’t blown up, and not in a good way, if you ask me.”

For a bloodcurdling second Hux looked as if he might shoot me, but he shut his eyes and took a breath and the moment passed.

“Anyway,” I said. “Phasma, you were trapped in the trash compactor.”

“Yes, and as luck would have it, it was collection day. I fell straight into the hold of the waste disposal shuttle and was emptied out, about five days later, at the landfill on Thrace Minor.”

I was agog. “You spent five days in a rubbish dump?”

“It wasn’t that bad. The trash was, as you might suppose, compacted, so it wasn’t too disgusting. I was very hungry by the time we landed, though.”

“I’ll bet,” I said, trying to imagine it. A woman of Phasma’s stature needed her three solid meals a day more than most.

“It took two weeks to get out of the landfill – that site is vast – and in that time I survived on rats and scavenger birds. I’m amazed I’m still alive, to be honest. Iron constitution, I suppose.”

Hux, for the first time, loosened his stance, lowering the gun.

“And you didn’t think to report back to the Order?” he asked. “When we were in disarray and needed our loyal high-ranking officers the most?”

“Oh, I thought about it,” said Phasma. “In fact, it was my intention. But after two months trying to jump shuttles and find a way to Arkanis or _anywhere_ with Order connections, I gave up. I took a job as door security at a sketchy cantina on some desert planet, which was the only place I could hitch to. I found that men kept offering me stupid amounts of cash to beat them up, so I took it. And when the Order disbanded, I realised I’d made the right choice. Where would I be now, if I’d gone back? In prison, no doubt, on a life tariff.”

“Is that so much worse than a brothel?” sneered Hux.

“Quite a lot worse, I should think,” she rejoindered. “I’m only here temporarily, while my own establishment is being rebuilt after a fire. Rama and I are what you might call business associates. We look out for each other.”

“You have a brothel here on Kusa B?” I exclaimed. I’d had no idea Kusa B was such a hotbed of illicit sex.

“No, mine is on Kusa C. It’s a great place, much more upmarket than this. I’ve made a lot of money, although most of it is tied up in out-of-galaxy investments. Shame about the fire; I was having some trouble with protection racketeers. They’ll get what’s coming to them though, don’t worry about that.”

“I won’t,” said Hux. “The First Order would have licensed brothels, so you wouldn’t have had any trouble with protection rackets. Licenses, regular health checks for your workers, quality assurance procedures.”

Phasma laughed. “And you’d have taken a nice slice of our income in tax, I daresay,” she said.

“Of course.”

“Never mind what the First Order would have done,” I said. “It’s the Second Order we need to watch out for.”

Phasma frowned. “What do you mean? Is the Order regrouping?”

“I think so,” said Hux. “After all, Snoke is still at large.”

“But all his best people are dead, or in prison. Oh. Do you mean you’re going to try and join him? Build a Starkiller 2? I don’t think that’s really…”

“No, that’s not what he means,” I said.

“Excuse me, Marillia, I can speak for myself,” said Hux. He turned his gaze again to Phasma, a strange light in his eyes as he regarded her. “Were my suspicions right about you and Kylo Ren, in those final days at Starkiller?”

Phasma looked away, her defiance replaced with blushing confusion.

“I’m…not sure what you mean,” she muttered.

“He was more volatile than ever,” said Hux. “A veritable volcano of tedious emotions. But I noticed that he was always calmer after spending time with you. And he did spend quite a _lot_ of time with you…back then…didn’t he?”

“We were close…friends,” she said.

“Was the real reason for your not returning to the Order after your landfill adventure the fact that he had switched allegiances?”

Hux had got straight to the heart of matter, apparently. Phasma couldn’t deny it.

“You were in love with him,” he continued bluntly.

“What has this got to do with anything?” Phasma was wounded, and it showed.

“Perhaps a great deal,” said Hux. “Did he care for you, would you say?”

Phasma glared at the floor. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I think I offered him something he needed at the time. I doubt it meant any more than that to him.”

“What was it that you offered?”

“Wil,” I cautioned. “This is a bit personal.”

He ignored me.

“What,” he reiterated, more slowly, “did you offer him?”

Phasma’s brittle laugh was on the edge of tears.

“Pretty much what I sell here,” she said with forced bravado. “He liked to have the angst beaten out of him.”

Hux folded his arms, seemingly satisfied with dragging this answer out of her.

“And you provided these services for nothing? Was there an emotional involvement?”

“I hoped for one,” she said. “But he never stayed, after our sessions. He always dressed and left straight away. We never even kissed.”

Hux sighed.

“So he wasn’t in love with you?”

“If he was, he hid it very effectively.” She paused. “There was one night though…two days before the base was destroyed. He was a little bit drunk and wanted to talk about his childhood. I just sat there and listened – he didn’t even ask me to hurt him, but he seemed grateful just to be able to offload. Before he left, he hugged me – and he gave me something. Just a little token.”

“What was it?” Hux had stiffened, a predator about to strike.

“It was just a little medallion thing – apparently his mother gave it to him when he was a child, said it signified that he was a prince of the house of Organa. It was worthless to him, he said.”

“A little prince,” scoffed Hux, but I thought he was probably jealous. He’d wanted royal blood all his life. “Do you still have it?”

Phasma nodded. “I thought of selling it, back in my destitute days, but I just couldn’t bring myself to.”

“Do you have it here? Can you lay your hands on it?”

She frowned at Hux. “What’s it to you? It’s mine. It’s a personal thing – I’m not selling it for whatever your cause is, if that’s what you think. You haven’t even had the decency to tell me what your cause is, for one thing.”

I reached a hand up to Hux; he took it absent-mindedly and linked his fingers with mine.

“We could tell her,” I ventured. “I really don’t think we have anything to lose.”

He nodded.

“I’m not asking you to sell it,” he said. “The thing is, I really need face-to-face contact with Kylo Ren.” He went on to explain what had happened in his last encounter with Snoke, and the need to have the memories replaced by someone with Force sensitivity.

Phasma sat cross-legged, listening with growing interest.

“I see,” she said, once he had finished. “Well. This is very interesting.”

“I can understand if you think you can’t help us,” I said, causing Hux to tighten his grip on me disapprovingly. “But if you could…”

She contemplated me for a pensive moment.

“You know, I always felt bad about your wedding,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said anything to Kylo. When I thought it was going to lead to your death, I really did feel dreadful.”

“Not quite as dreadful as we did,” said Hux coldly, signalling my turn to squeeze his fingers.

“In my defence, I will say that I thought you were making a career-destroying mistake, General,” she said.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” he said, which interested me. I wouldn’t have wanted to go near him any time soon after my escape from Starkiller. I could imagine he was hell to be around.

“I know,” she said. “But you weren’t really in any frame of mind to listen back then. And I wanted Marillia to hear it.” She gave me a curious smile. “I’m surprised you two are back together, to be honest, after all that went on. Love’s a wonderful thing.”

“It is,” I said, “and we have a child. A son.” I spoke on in the face of Phasma’s clear incredulity. “I was pregnant when I left the base. He’s five now. So, you see, all this is for him…” My voice cracked, and compassion swept across her features straight away.

She reached out and patted my arm, a little awkwardly.

“I do see,” she said. “All right. For the sake of your boy, who is innocent in all of this, perhaps I could help you. Do you have a picture of him?”

I reached into my backpack and showed her the photograph I’d brought with me.

“Goodness. No need for paternity testing with that one,” she said, smiling at his freckled button nose. She looked up at Hux. “Whatever it is you want me to do, I’m not prepared to put my head above the parapet. Nothing that can lead to my arrest or charge or anything of that nature.”

“You will be perfectly safe. I promise you on my son’s life.”

“All right,” she said. “What’s the plan?”


	12. Chapter 12

I had never been a fan of waiting, and Hux was even less enamoured, but there was nothing else for us to do for the next two days.

Phasma sent the medallion to Kylo Ren with a cryptic invitation to meet at the beach hut at a certain time and date. All that remained was to see if he would bite.

“There’s really no guarantee that he’ll fall for it,” said Phasma on one of her daily visits to our lair.

“I think he’ll come,” said Hux decisively. “He’ll be intrigued. He won’t be able to resist.”

“But what if he brings backup? What if he tips off the war criminal unit?” I was so full of misgivings I was really just one giant misgiving now.

“That’s why we send a decoy to the hut,” explained Hux, none too patiently. He had run through all of this before.

“But we really don’t know if we can trust Frant,” I said, wringing my hands.

“Oh, I’m confident of Frant,” said Phasma. “She’ll do anything for me. She’ll deliver Kylo to us, as long as it can be done. And I’ll watch from the woods to see that he comes alone.”

“Kriff, it’s risky, though,” I said.

“I really don’t think he’d set the dogs on me,” said Phasma. “I really don’t think he would. We were friends.”

“And think how much _less_ dangerous this is than crossing the galaxy to find him,” added Hux. “We would almost certainly be recognised and caught, love. You must see that.”

“I know, I know,” I said. “So you really think he’ll turn up?”

“I think the odds are strongly in our favour,” said Hux. “I would expect a trap, but I don’t think Ren would. He doesn’t think that way. He relies on his visceral response to a situation rather than thinking it through on every level. I can’t see any reason why that would’ve changed.”

“You think he’ll want to see me again?” said Phasma, an eager little blush materialising on her cheeks.

“Why wouldn’t he?” said Hux. “He liked you, and he thought you were dead. And he might have switched sides, but I think Kylo Ren is the type who puts personal relationships ahead of ideology. He will have rationalised some way to forgive you your sins.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said, her voice softer than I’d heard it before.

“So do I,” said Hux. “But I think I am. Go and work on Frant now. We need her absolutely in the palm of your hand.”

Phasma nodded, rose from our little pow-wow circle on the futon and left.

Hux turned to me. “You need to have a little faith, Marillia,” he said.

“Faith? That sounds odd, coming from you. You don’t put your trust in imponderables.”

“I’m an imponderable, am I?” he said, with a half-smile.

“Well, you’re not a god, if that’s what you’re driving at.”

“I’m your emperor,” he reminded me. “And as such, you should have faith in me.”

I shook my head, amused out of my state of anxiety, which was perhaps his intention.

“Emperor of this cupboard,” I teased.

“Don’t forget the dungeon,” he said, wagging a finger at me. “You’d be _very_ ill-advised to forget the dungeon.”

No chance of _that_ , I thought, shifting slightly on my bottom. It was the first time I’d been able to sit on it since he’d caned me, and even now the welts-turned-bruises reminded me of their presence with implacable persistence. Even so, I found my literal pain in the arse more delightful than disturbing.

Hux read my thoughts. “I see you’re able to sit again,” he said, stroking a hand up and down my thigh. “I’m not sure I approve. I like it when you have to kneel to me.”

I looked down at his hand, at his long, pale fingers splayed across my skin.

“I couldn’t bear to lose you again,” I whispered.

“Stop that,” he commanded.

I looked into his face, which was sternly set.

“Stop what?”

“The catastrophising. This is what I mean about having faith, Marillia. Neither of us knows how long we have with each other, so why ruin the time we have?”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to be positive…”

“Then try harder,” he said, accompanying each word of exhortation with a firm pat to my thigh.

I tried to adjust my expression into one of bright optimism, but my facial muscles didn’t want to play ball.

He sighed and cupped my chin, bringing my forehead together with his.

“What do I have to do, to stop you worrying?” he murmured. “I’m sure I can take your mind off things, if that’s what’s necessary.”

“I’m sure you could,” I agreed, focusing now on the nearness of his lips, the warmth of his skin on mine. The image of us lying crumpled and chained in separate prison cells for the rest of our lives began to fade. His fingertips traced a path up from my thigh, outlining my hips, drumming lightly against the inlet of my waist.

Our lips met, glancingly at first, then he took a stronger initiative, pressing his mouth to mine. He held the back of my neck, keeping me locked into the kiss, not that I had any thought of escape.

And really, we had done a great deal of this, during our close confinement, but it didn’t seem to wear thin. Our lips were dry and chafed with all the kissing, but we still couldn’t get enough of it.

My limbs were aching and weary from over use, and I could barely walk straight from all the sex, yet I always wanted more; endlessly, eternally more of him.

“At least I can get you on your back now,” he said urgently, breaking off the kiss in order to push me by my shoulder into a supine position.

He loomed over me, holding himself tense in an elbow-supported plank, his knees inside mine, nudging my legs into a V. His face hung above mine, strands of hair unplastering themselves and breaking free to tickle my skin. I clasped my hands around his neck, wishing I could lock us together for real, so nobody would be able to part us.

He resumed the kiss and I pushed my fingers into his hair, enjoying its fine texture as I rumpled it out of its customary flatness. He lowered himself, pressing his pelvis down on mine, making me take its weight -and the hardness underneath - on top of me.

We lay like that for some time, fully engaged in deeper and deeper snogging. I relished the captivity his body enforced, knowing that I could not escape from him and finding the knowledge both exciting and comforting. Even when his erection crushed bruisingly into my pubic bone, I didn’t struggle or try to evade it. Instead, I opened my thighs wider and tried to guide him in between them, so that soon enough his bulge nestled comfortably against my lips, grinding into them as our tongues pushed and shoved.

“I will never have enough of you,” he vowed, reaching down to fumble with his leather-clad crotch, releasing himself from confinement.

“I hope you never do,” I replied, arching myself into him, slicking his length with my wetness.

He took my mouth again at the same time as he stretched me inside, pushing in until I was fully impaled. I gasped around his tongue; he put a hand to my heart and felt its flutter. He moaned with pleasure and set to work.

Although I was sore with the repeated friction of the preceding days, my own lubrication came to my aid and soon the twinges of pain were swept away by the greater pleasure of our coupling. We undulated against each other, wrapping legs and arms where they were most wanted, using our hands to enhance the sensations. For the last two days, I had only been able to take him on my hands and knees. Much as I had enjoyed it, being able to face him felt new and precious again, and I kept my eyes open, watching his skin flush darker and his eyelashes flicker with each thrust.

The pressure inside me ramped up until I was close to release. Hux ended the kiss, which had been intermittent, sometimes straying to my neck or my breasts, and rose up on to his knees. He put my legs over his shoulders, grasping me by my hips to make sure we didn’t disengage, and began powering into me from this different angle. I was able to kick and twist myself tighter on the screw and he was able to lick his thumb and stroke my clit as he pumped his hips harder and faster.

I watched him from under half-closed lids; the intensity of his expression was almost demonic. It pushed me over my edge with a sudden surge. He rubbed my clit throughout and I kicked out like a wild thing, driven to frenzy. Once I was done, he held me by my thighs and made me keep still while he flooded into me with one, two, three strong thrusts, my bottom raised from the floor, the better to retain what he gave me.

“Damn it,” he panted, gathering me into his arms afterwards. “I meant to tie you up first. All this equipment and I didn’t even use any of it. What a waste.”

“Sometimes it isn’t needed,” I said, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder.

“Mm,” he agreed, and we drifted into sleep, his mission to make me forget my anxiety fully completed.

The next day we had another mission to contemplate, and when Frant and Phasma arrived in our cupboard, dressed with uncharacteristic drabness, there could be no escaping the fact that this was make-or-break time.

Phasma, in a large rain cape and clumpy boots, kept her arm around Frant, who stood shivering in a capacious fur coat that drowned her small frame.

“Will he have a gun?” Frant wanted to know.

“He’ll certainly have a weapon of some kind, unless he’s a complete fool,” said Hux. “But he won’t use it on you. Just say the words you’ve been practising, and bring him down here. It really isn’t difficult.”

“I’m scared,” said Frant, large-eyed. “I’ve seen him on the bulletins. He’s a big man.”

“He’s not as tall as me,” said Phasma, rubbing her hand up and down Frant’s arm. “And you like me, darling, don’t you?”

“Of course I like you,” said Frant. “You’re beautiful. He’s…just big. And he has the Force.”

“Well, I always found him quite pretty,” said Phasma, with a little sigh. “But he won’t use the Force on you. And you know I’ll be very close to you, just waiting in the woods. You only have to give the signal if you need me.”

“But try not to,” Hux broke in. “We don’t want him to see her, or he may not come here. It’s really very simple. Your part in it will be over in minutes.”

“I don’t want him to be angry with me,” wittered Frant.

Phasma, rolling her eyes above Frant’s head, drew her into a bear hug.

“He won’t be angry with you, sweetie,” she soothed. “He’s looking for me, so he’ll be very pleased with you if you can bring him to my home. And I’ll be very pleased with you too. Very pleased.”

“How pleased?” whispered Frant.

“Pleased enough to let you…” She bent and whispered into Frant’s ear. The upshot was a smile on the maid’s face wide enough to split it in half.

“All right,” she said. “But do you promise?”

“I promise.” Phasma opened her arms and rearranged herself into a military posture, quite as if she were reporting to her superior officer. I guess old habits died hard with First Order types, because Hux drew himself up as well, clasping his hands behind his back in the familiar old General style.

“I’m ready for action, sss,” she said, recalling herself just in time to cut off the reflexive honorific.

“I hope you will be successful,” said Hux. “For the sake of the galaxy. I trust you both to do your part.”

Frant looked a little bemused to have such faith put in her, but she trotted after Phasma like an obedient puppy. Phasma clearly had that effect on people.

When they left, I sat on the futon with my knees drawn up to my chin and my arms clasped tight around them.

“This has to work,” I muttered. “Oh lord. It has to work.”

“At any rate, we’ll know within the next hour, I hope,” said Hux, leaning against a set of drawers and staring absently at the shut door. “And if he doesn’t turn up, we just have to go and find him.”

I started rocking.

“Marillia!” His undisguised disapproval turned me to knee-hugging stone. “There is an emergency hatch, you know. In the dungeon ceiling. I believe it comes out into the yard.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“For the purpose of quick getaways in the event of law enforcement raids, I presume. If we stay at the top of the stairs, by the door, we’ll know if Kylo is alone when he enters.”

“They could have the place surrounded,” I said. “In fact, I bet they _would_ have the place surrounded.”

“We’ll cross that bridge,” sighed Hux. “If and when.” He checked the safety catch on his purloined blaster, then opened the door into the dungeon.

Frant told me later how things went at the beach hut.

She waited just inside the front door while Phasma lurked in the trees a short distance away. It was cold and foggy, and if Kylo brought reinforcements, they wouldn’t know it until they were right on top of them.

Frant was terrified, of course, but she held her nerve brilliantly and didn’t try to run away or hide, tempted though she was. Her wristwatch buzzed the time of appointment simultaneously with a thump on the door that made her double over in shocked fright.

“Phasma?” A deep voice from the porch.

Frant moved further into the hut. When Kylo Ren entered, she put her hands in the air and fell to her knees.

“Who the fuck are you? Where’s Phasma?”

“I’m…I…” Frant needed a moment to get her mouth back in working order, but was eventually able to explain that Phasma had sent her to rendezvous with him, and lead him to a more suitable meeting place.

“Why didn’t she come herself?”

“She was scared you’d bring guards, or try to have her arrested. Are you alone, sir?”

“Yes, I’m alone. And I wouldn’t do that. I just want to talk to her.”

“OK, then follow me.” Frant rushed towards the door to give Phasma the ‘all clear’ signal, but Kylo grabbed her arm as she passed, squeezing it so tightly she screamed.

“What is this? She _is_ alive, isn’t she? If this is some kind of…”

Frant was overwhelmed by an indescribable sense of nausea at that moment, a feeling that her brain was being sucked out through her eyes.

Kylo let out an incredulous chuckle. “You have to be fucking _kidding_ me,” he said.

“What? What?” Frant panicked, flailing in Kylo’s grip.

“It wasn’t Phasma who sent you, was it, you lying little bitch?” He shook Frant hard, dislodging her so that she fell full force on the rotting plank floor. “But since she _is_ alive and involved in all of this, I guess I’ll bite. Go on. Take me to Hux then.”

Frant blinked, wide-eyed with dismay, but Kylo simply shook his head and swept his arm towards the door, indicating that it was time to leave.

Frant had no idea what signal to make to Phasma. The ‘all clear’ didn’t seem quite appropriate, and yet neither was the ‘he’s brought backup, run’. She settled for a helpless shrug that brought Phasma out of the trees and into view. Later she confessed to me that she just couldn’t hide from Kylo – her desire to see him again was too strong. She put her own head above the parapet after all.

“Kylo,” she said, standing in front of them.

“I don’t believe it,” he said. “It really is you. It…it’s good to see you.” He stepped forward uncertainly and they fell into a hug, tearful on Phasma’s side.

“But listen,” he said, drawing back and looking anxiously into her eyes. “What have you got mixed up in now? Are you sheltering Hux? You shouldn’t do that. It can’t end well for you.”

She shook her head. “You know about that?” she said. “Frant, why did you tell him?”

“I didn’t!” cried Frant. “He did something to me. It was awful.”

“Oh,” said Phasma. “I did warn you to keep your distance.” Her attention reverted to Kylo. “So you know we’re taking you to see him.”

“Apparently,” sniffed Kylo. “And there was me, hoping you just wanted to catch up on old times.”

“I do want to,” she assured him. “Very much.”

“So what’s this Hux thing about? Was it you that sprung him? Are you two…” He made a disgusted face.

“Lord, no! Me and Hux?” She laughed heartily. “We just happened to run into each other. And he really does need to see you. I’ll leave it to him to explain, but it’s important.”

“Important? More important than apologising to me for being a dick all the time?”

“Even more important than that.”

Kylo raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Where are we going anyway?”

“It’s my new place,” she said with a smile, linking her arm with his. “I think you’ll like it.”

“You live here? In this sithforsaken hole?” He looked around at the bleak winter scene; the bare trees, the fog-laden sea.

“I live in a brothel,” she said. “And it has a dungeon.”

Kylo stopped in his tracks for a moment, staring at her.

“A dungeon? Fuck me!” he said, following Phasma round the corner into the street where we awaited him.

“Play your cards right,” she purred, “and I just might.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purposes of this story, Kylo and Rey are definitely not related (because THIS ISN'T DICKENS).

The top step of the stone staircase that led out of the dungeon was chilly and not at all kind on my poor bottom, but at least my buttocks numbed fairly quickly.

Hux had the better end of the deal, lurking on a stepladder (a bondage stepladder with leather cuffs affixed to various parts) just underneath the ceiling hatch, ready to punch through it with his blaster blazing should our visitors be more in number than expected.

By the time the front door opened and voices were heard in the passageway, I was almost too stiff to leap up and put my ear to the keyhole, but I managed it somehow.

“…promise you, it’s something you need to know.” Phasma’s voice.

“Do I have to meet him now? Can’t we…you know…have a bit of time alone first?”

I bit on my knuckle, my heart hammering.

That was definitely Kylo Ren’s voice. I’d recognise it anywhere.

Phasma chuckled softly. “Easy, tiger,” she said. “You aren’t married off to some Republican grandee yet then?”

“Not yet, not ever,” he said.

“OK, Frant, you can run along now,” said Phasma. “I’ll come and see you later, and give you that reward we talked about.”

Frant wasn’t the only one running along. I scurried down the steps.

“He’s here,” I panted. “And I don’t think he’s brought anyone else. But he’s talking to Phasma – she must have broken her cover for some reason.”

Hux sat down on the top step of the ladder, laying his blaster in his lap. He didn’t say anything, just took a few deep breaths and pushed back his shoulders, apparently keen to receive Kylo in an appropriately unintimidated manner.

A nod of his head beckoned me to sit on the bottom rung of the ladder, ostensibly at his feet, like his slave girl.

“Shall I go and open the door?” I asked, wondering what was taking them so long. Had Phasma and Kylo actually slipped away for that joked-about ‘alone time’ after all?

“No,” said Hux. “Not yet.”

“He seems pleased to see Phasma, which is good, isn’t it? Might make him more receptive.”

“Hmm.”

The door rattled, then creaked open.

“It’s all right,” Phasma called down. “Just the two of us. No need to switch to Plan B.”

“Did you think I’d bring an army?” Kylo’s voice behind her was amused.

“It was hard to know,” said Phasma. “I mean, technically I’d be on the wanted list – if anyone knew I was alive.”

“I guess so,” said Kylo, and he emerged into the dungeon alongside a very pink-cheeked Phasma.

He was always recognisable – his build and the mop of dark hair saw to that – but how different he looked out of those formidable Knight-of-Ren robes. Plainly but expensively dressed in shades of dark blue, he was a storybook prince come to life. And his face – what was it that had changed? He looked _relaxed._ Happy, even.

Which was more than I could say for Hux, who had gone rigid.

“Nowhere near as high on it as this one, though,” said Kylo, stepping nearer. “Public enemy number one, I do believe.”

“Lord Ren,” said Hux tonelessly.

“Actually, I go by Ben now,” he said.

Hux made a sound of sardonic amusement. “How times change,” he said. “Ben Solo once more.”

“Not Solo,” said Kylo. “Organa.”

“Ah, mama’s boy once more. Even a little matter of parricide couldn’t cut the apron strings. Touching.”

_Shut up, Hux_ , I wanted to mutter through gritted teeth, but to my surprise, the legendary Kylo temper failed to flare.

“She understands the pressure I was under,” he said. “I won’t say she’s forgiven me, but she understands. That’s about as much as I could ask of her. What she doesn’t understand, though, is you. Not that she’s alone there.”

“Well, I daresay the universe holds few mysteries for the great General Organa, so I shall take that as a compliment,” said Hux. “However, there is something she will need to understand, quite urgently, and it can only come from me.”

“So Phasma was saying…oh, Marillia. I didn’t see you there.”

“Hi,” I said awkwardly.

“He reeled you back in in the end, then?”

“We found each other,” I said.

“Yeah, no thinks to those shitty bounty hunters, I heard.” Kylo laughed, but I couldn’t bring myself to join in. “Anyway, _General_ , before we go any further, I’m going to have to disarm you.”

Hux looked at his blaster, then back at Kylo.

“You’re armed, I assume?” he said.

“Of course.” Kylo’s hand went to his belt. Underneath his tunic was some kind of bulk; probably a lightsabre. “But I don’t want to be staring down the barrel of your gun. If you want me to listen to you, you need to put it away. Give it to Marillia or something. I’m pretty sure she’s harmless.”

_Charming_.

But he was right. My days as a First Order trainee crack shot were a long way distant now.

Hux passed the blaster to me. I put it on the step next to me, gingerly, as if it were a venomous beast about to strike.

“So,” said Kylo. “Tell me what’s so incredibly important that you had to break out of custody and summon me to a brothel.”

“I will,” said Hux. “But I need some assurances first.”

Kylo rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go,” he jeered. “You’re hardly in a strong bargaining position, Hux. One comm call from me and you’re right back in Max Security One Point One, with no prospect of release or visiting rights, ever.”

“I know that,” said Hux, swallowing down some audible wrath. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about the future of the galaxy.”

Kylo looked unconvinced, but when Phasma took hold of his forearm he relented. “Go on then,” he said. “What do you need?”

“I need your assurance that, whatever happens to me, Marillia will be exempt from any legal proceedings relating to my escape.”

Kylo looked at me and nodded.

“Okay. She can be kept out of it. What else?”

“Once you have done what needs doing, you will arrange a meeting with General Organa, just me and her, nobody else present, at which we can discuss the future. More specifically, my future.”

Kylo erupted into a scoffing laugh. “You don’t want much, do you? You think she’ll have anything to do with you?”

“I think she won’t have much choice,” said Hux.

Kylo shook his head. “You know I can just…” He bent a little closer to Hux and I could feel the waves of Force malevolence radiating from him.

“No, don’t do that,” I cried, rising from my rung of the ladder, as if putting myself between the two of them could protect Hux’s brain from invasion. “Please. Just listen to him. He isn’t trying to hide anything from you, I promise.”

Kylo stepped back again, looking at me through narrowed eyes.

“Well, since it’s you,” he said, raising his hands in concession. “Officer Rome.” He smirked at me. “Do you ever wonder if things would be different now, if I’d taken you up on your offer that night?”

He was saying this for no other reason than to needle Hux, and I pursed my lips primly.

“No,” I said. When I sat back down on the ladder, Hux put his foot on my shoulder. I knew exactly why.

_Hands off, Ren._

“So what is it you want from me?” said Kylo. “Because if it’s forgiveness, I’ll need a bit of time. And a lot more grovelling. _Abject_ , intense grovelling.”

Hux’s foot twitched on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Hux coldly. “My requirements of you are purely skills-based. You can continue to think what you like of me, and I’m sure you will.”

“Oh, I will,” said Kylo.

“I’ve been led to believe that a Force-user can replace memories removed by means of the Force,” said Hux. “Is that so?”

“I’ve never done it myself,” said Kylo slowly. “But…in theory. Snoke removed your memories?”

“He did. A sequence of highly specific memories, relating to the last days of the Order.” He paused. “And plans for their second manifestation.”

“So you know where he is?” Kylo’s scepticism turned to animation. “I’ve tried and tried to sense him and he’s just…nowhere. I thought he was dead.”

“He may well be,” said Hux. “I don’t know. My lost memories will give you all the information you need.”

“If you aren’t lying, this is really _worth_ something,” said Kylo. “You aren’t wasting my time after all. Shit. Ma will be… Yeah, anyway. Why didn’t you tell anybody before?”

“What, at Demron?” said Hux with disdain. “I might have been insane, but I wasn’t quite mad enough to play all my cards to people who would take the information and keep me locked up regardless. Because that’s what would have happened.”

“It would have helped your case at trial,” he said.

“No it wouldn’t,” said Hux. “No war crime tribunal could possibly find me anything other than guilty. I accept that. Perhaps they’d have shunted me somewhere a smidgen less bleak than Max One Point One, but they have citizens to appease, and that’s their priority. Too many people lost loved ones in the Hosnian System; any leniency shown to me would result in rioting.”

“Yeah, and that still holds,” said Kylo. “So what difference does doing it now make?”

“That’s between me and General Organa,” he said.

Kylo sighed heavily. “All that time in the pen hasn’t made you any less annoying,” he remarked.

“And I’d like to say that embracing the Light has had an enhancing effect on your personal charm, but it really hasn’t,” countered Hux.

“Claws back in, eh?” said Phasma. “We all want the same thing here, which is Snoke dead. Can we try and sing from the same sheet?”

Kylo nodded and squared his shoulders.

“OK then,” he said. “Shall we do it now?”

“Why not?” said Hux. “And I have witnesses to those promises you made, remember.”

Kylo grinned. “Two dead women?” he teased, but we all gave him basilisk glares in response and he held up his hands. “Yeah, don’t panic. You’ll get what you asked for. So, you’d better get off that ladder and come a bit closer, General.”

I stood up to let Hux descend to ground level. I caught at his hand as he passed, holding on to it.

“Will this hurt him?” I asked Kylo.

Kylo nodded, all seriousness now. “It’s possible,” he said. “If it even works. Like I said, it’s not something I’ve ever done before.”

“Is it all right if I keep hold of him?”

“If you want.” Kylo was indifferent. “I need you to kneel, General. There, I’ve always wanted to say that. Get on your knees.”

Hux looked less than thrilled at the prospect, but he did as Kylo asked (after the obligatory eye roll). I knelt beside him, just a little bit further back, supporting him around the waist with my arm, in case he collapsed under the strain.

Kylo moved forward until Hux’s face was practically in his crotch. Hux wrinkled his nose and turned towards me, gripping my hand tightly.

“Is this dangerous?” I blurted, my heart thundering now at the potential seriousness of all this. “I mean, could it go wrong? Could it mess up his mind?”

“What, more than it already is, you mean?” said Kylo carelessly. “No. It either works or it doesn’t. He’ll get his memories back, or he’ll stay the way he is now.”

“Right.” I breathed again. “Shall we get it over with then?”

“Fine by me.” Kylo reached down and put his hands to Hux’s temples, pressing in hard. “OK,” he said, after a second or two. “I see the gap. I…” He shut his eyes.

Hux’s muscles spasmed against me; I did my utmost to hold him straight. His breath grew fast and harsh and I could see that he was in some pain. To see this most stoical of men struggling to maintain his impervious façade was upsetting, especially when he had to give up the fight and gasp in agony.

“It’s OK, it’s OK,” I whispered, although I was far from convinced of this.

Even Kylo looked concerned, as if he was trying desperately hard to remember what he’d revised in a test.

“Right…right… _yes_ ,” he said to himself. “That’s _it_ , I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” His rumpled brow smoothed, and Hux loosened a little against me, his face a symphony of tics as he struggled to recover from his ordeal.

Finally, Kylo stepped back, releasing Hux from their intense contact. Hux collapsed forward, clutching his head in his hands, shuddering with exertion.

“Are you all right, Wil? Wil, are you OK?” I felt useless, rubbing his back and shoulders, doing whatever I could to maintain our connection. He leaned into me, clinging to me like a drowning man to flotsam.

“Is he OK?” I asked, looking up at Kylo, who was pale and haunted-looking enough on his own account.

Kylo nodded, swallowing. “He’ll be fine.”

Phasma returned from the bathroom bearing cups of water for the afflicted.

Kylo drank it down in one gulp and let Phasma take his hand and sit down beside him on a padded spanking bench.

Hux needed a little longer, but he let me put the cup to his lips and wet them before taking it from me and sipping. He smoothed his hair with a jittery hand and sat back on his heels, staring at Kylo Ren.

“So, did it work?” asked Phasma, breaking the loaded silence.

“It worked,” said Kylo hollowly.

“You remember everything Snoke told you?” I asked Hux, who nodded, glassy-eyed.

“That is one sick fucker,” said Kylo, sending Phasma back to get him another cup of water.

“So, where is he? What’s happening? What do we do now?” I clutched at Hux’s hands, which were cold and somewhat clammy.

“I thought there was something weird about Rey,” said Kylo.

“Rey?” Phasma and I were as confused as each other.

“That’s where he is,” said Hux. “He perfected a new skill – the skill of merging himself with another Force user. Rey was the one who came looking for him after the Order fell, and she was the one he latched on to. Of course, she has no idea he’s _in_ her. He’s biding his time, but he means to take control of her, once the Resistance has been infiltrated by enough of his remaining First Order personnel. They’re planning to stage a coup from within.”

“How can First Order people get into the Resistance?” asked a stunned Phasma. “Everybody would know them. Their pictures are on the wall of every Law Enforcement centre in the galaxy, not to mention constantly shown on the bulletins.”

“It’s a Jedi mind trick on a vast scale,” said Kylo. “They’re shielded from discovery by a kind of, I don’t know, wall of misdirection. Nobody recognises them, nobody asks about them.”

“What about you?” I asked. “Jedi mind tricks don’t work on you, do they?”

“Well,” said Kylo, looking a little embarrassed, “to tell you the truth, I haven’t been that involved with the Resistance, since the Order fell. I’ve been taking a little…time out.”

“Time out?” said Phasma.

“Mostly at the gaming palaces on Naboo,” he said, shame-faced. “I needed a break, OK? I’ve had an intense few years.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” said Hux.

“Shit!” said Kylo. “Now I come to think of it, that was Rey’s suggestion. We’d been seeing a bit of each other when I changed sides, but after the Order fell, she pulled back. Said she needed time and thought I was too damaged…I needed to get my head together…so I took off to Naboo. Truth to tell, I was pretty pissed at her, thought she’d been leading me on. But it was Snoke talking! Getting me out of the way so he could smuggle in his spies. Fuck!”

“In the meantime,” said Hux, “there are First Order operatives at the very heart of your mother’s command council, if Snoke’s plans are coming to fruition. She needs to be told, and now. Snoke mentioned a time frame of two years. It’s already been longer than that since the fall of the Order. They could be preparing to act now.”

“And Rey,” nodded Kylo. “I need to get Snoke out of her.”

Phasma gave him a dark look. She hadn’t taken the news of his dalliance with the former scavenger too well.

“I’m here to help,” she said. “Just tell me what you need.”

Kylo bit his lip, staring at Hux.

“I don’t know what we need,” he admitted. “How do we play this?”

“Would you know how to extract Snoke from his host?” asked Hux.

Kylo shook his head. “I didn’t even know it was possible to…do what he did. Let alone to reverse it.”

“If you killed her, would he die too? Or would he be able to escape?” asked Hux.

“I’m not going to kill her,” said Kylo flatly.

“Well, Snoke can wait,” said Hux, ignoring the implicit censure in Kylo’s tone. “First of all, we need to sabotage this coup.”

“How?” I asked.

“They’re going to take control of the central systems at the Base – disable all the security protocols and cause chaos throughout the Republic. A galaxy-wide shut down. By the time the systems come back online, all military outposts will have been seized, all top Republican figures will have been murdered. Infrastructure, power, everything will depend on the Order allowing access to the reconfigured systems.”

“They’ve got Order people everywhere,” said Kylo, spreading his palms. “It’ll take a long time to identify them all – longer than we’ve got. What the fuck are we going to do?”

“We’re going to D’Qar,” said Hux firmly. “Today.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing and adding kudos - it's great to feel that I'm not alone here.

“Where’s your craft?”

Hux, now recovered from his memory-replacement ordeal, stood eye to eye with Kylo. The prospect of action had galvanised him, turned him back into the focused man who could sift multiple complex considerations into a strict order of priority in seconds.

“It’s about five miles from here,” said Kylo. “There’s a deserted landing strip.”

“Good. Not at a manned drome then?”

“No. I try and avoid those. I get a lot of attention.” Kylo sighed.

“Do we know you weren’t seen?” I asked. “Were there cameras?”

“I might have been on someone’s radar.” Kylo shrugged. “This doesn’t seem like the most traffic-heavy area though.”

“What kind of ship is it?” asked Hux.

“Well, it’ll be a bit of a crush,” admitted Kylo. “It’s a Warrona 101 – officially a four-man, but…”

“A racing model,” said Hux, rolling his eyes. “A boy’s toy.”

“She was a birthday present from ma,” objected Kylo. “She’s a beauty, though. You should see the stunts I can pull off in her.”

“A wanton misuse of galactic tax credits,” sniffed Hux. “Such extravagance wouldn’t have been allowed…”

“Under the First Order,” we all finished in chorus, breaking into laughter.

Hux bit his lower lip, looking down at his boots, then sideways at me. Oops. _That_ look. There would be retribution for my impertinence somewhere along the line.

“Sorry, but, you know…” I mumbled, my hand flying reflexively to my bum cheek and rubbing it.

“Five miles is a long way if you’re having to break cover,” said Phasma more soberly. “I know a lot of it’s through forest, but all the same…”

“We’re expecting disguises and fake IDs later on today,” I said. “I guess we ought to wait for those?”

I looked at Hux, who nodded.

“Use the stolen comm device to see if the search has come anywhere near us,” he suggested.

Phasma rose from her perch on the spanking bench. “Well, in the meantime I’ve got a promise to keep to our friend Frant,” she said. “I’ll be back down anon.”

“Leaving me already?” flirted Kylo, tapping her wrist as she moved away.

“Oh, don’t you worry, my dear,” she said. “You’ll have my full attention soon enough.”

She left, and I went into our cupboard to retrieve the comms device.

“Where did you get that?” asked Kylo when I brought it back into the dungeon.

“I took it from one of the prison guards when I escaped,” Hux explained.

“How the hell _did_ you escape?” asked Kylo. “Nobody’s figured it out yet.”

“And nobody ever will,” said Hux blithely. “Including you. Any intel?”

The last question was directed at me.

“Hang on…” I scanned quickly through a long list of messages, decoding them in my head as I worked. A slow smile spread to both sides of my face as the picture of manhunt activity emerged.

“What’s funny?” Hux wanted to know, peering over my shoulder.

“Nothing. But you’d be amazed at how many suspicious redheads have been spotted in very far-flung corners of the galaxy. _Dozens_ of them. And they’re having to investigate every sighting.”

Hux smirked with satisfaction.

“I’d bet my mother is up to some mischief with her First Order sewing circle friends.”

Kylo snorted. “First Order sewing circle?”

“That’s what my father called her women’s group,” said Hux. “But believe me, it wasn’t a good idea to belittle them. He was afraid of them really. With good reason. Anyway, I imagine they and their friends are calling in false sightings all over the place.”

“You could be right,” I said, reading on. “Though the main body of the search is concentrated on and around Arkanis.”

“How desperately _obvious_ ,” said an unimpressed Hux.

“Good for us, though,” I said, returning my gaze to the device. “Oh.”

“What?” Kylo and Hux both crowded around me.

I raised my eyes to Kylo. “I think they’re watching you.”

“Really? Why?” He made a snatch for the device, but I held it away from him.

“It’s encrypted,” I told him. “You wouldn’t be able to read it. But there’s a message here: _The cub is on KB._ ”

“What?” said Kylo. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think KB is here – Kusa B. And you could be the cub – the son of the General. It makes sense. Especially if there are First Order people in central communications. Do you think they might have put a trace on you? On your ship?”

“Snoke would want you away from D’Qar,” said Hux, swallowing. “It does make sense. He’d need some warning if you were about to return.”

Kylo looked at each of us in turn, consternated.

“So if I go back…” he said.

“There’s every possibility of a welcoming committee,” finished Hux. “Damn it. Can we get there in a different craft? Or is the trace on you, personally?”

“Must be the ship,” said Kylo, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“I certainly hope so,” said Hux. “We don’t want anyone following you here. Whatever happens, I think we have to go to D’Qar separately. But how?”

“Use the disguises and the fake IDs, I guess,” I said.

“Hmm. It’s dangerous,” pondered Hux. “Phasma must have some transport. How did she get here?”

“Oh, yes, let’s go with Phasma. If she doesn’t have a private vessel, she can always hire one.”

“Right,” said Hux. “We’ll meet up when we get to D’Qar. I’d ask you to meet with your mother in private and explain the situation, but if they don’t have the place bugged up to the hilt, they aren’t the people I remember. I don’t think we’re going to be able to alert General Organa without giving ourselves away.”

“I can hack into the system,” I volunteered. “If you can get me anywhere near the right hardware.”

“Perfect,” said Hux. “I think you might be the key to this, Marillia, if you can override the security protocols before they do.”

“If,” I said, grimacing. There were an awful lot of fences to jump first.

“When,” corrected Hux, patting my shoulder. “I have absolute faith in you. I’ve made some questionable decisions in my life, but you aren’t one of them.”

“Aww,” said Kylo. “Sweet.”

“Fuck off, Ren,” said Hux briskly. “You’re familiar with the Resistance Base, I assume? Do you know of any means of access that will enable us to bypass security?”

“Yeah, well, if we use the back door, I can get you all into the staff quarters with my keypass,” he said. “But Snoke will sense my presence straight away.”

“Don’t come in with us then,” said Hux. “Or rather – yes – do come in with us, but we split up once we’re in there. You can lure Snoke somewhere, while we do what has to be done on the systems.”

“Lure Snoke somewhere? I can’t harm Rey. What if he tries to fight me?”

“Lure him to the med bay. If you can incapacitate Rey – maybe anaesthetise her for a spell – Snoke will be out of action until we decide how to get him out of his host.” Hux raised his eyebrow at Kylo’s uncertain expression. “Come on, you can incapacitate Rey. You’re twice her size.”

“I’ll do what I can,” he said.

The upper door opened, indicating Phasma’s return. Whatever she had promised Frant hadn’t taken very long, but then I imagined Phasma didn’t hang around when she had a task to perform.

She wasn’t, however, alone.

“I heard we had a special guest,” enthused Madam Rama, holding out her hand to Kylo. “It’s my very great honour to welcome you to my humble abode. Well, my humble dungeon. I don’t actually live in here. Goodness, I’ve gone all tongue-tied.” She tittered, and Phasma frowned. “You could say I’m a fan. I would love it if you could stay for dinner and perhaps…you know…some entertainment.”

Kylo, somewhat nonplussed, took her hand and shook it.

“Thanks,” he said, “but actually we do need to get going.”

Rama pouted.

“Just when I was going to hand over the disguises and fake IDs to your friends too. I thought we could do it after dinner…”

“We’ll do it now, thank you,” cut in Hux peremptorily.

She flashed her eyes at him.

“I don’t take orders from _you_ ,” she snarled. “Your poor little whipping girl there might have to obey your every word, but I don’t.”

“Excuse me,” I exclaimed, my cheeks burning.

Kylo looked highly amused, and Phasma covered her mouth with a hand.

“Shall I ask the maid to set the table for two?” she resumed her flirtation with Kylo. “I’ll ask some of the girls to put on a special burlesque for you.”

“I’m really sorry,” said Kylo, and Rama looked as if she was going to cut in with more inducements, but Kylo’s eyes went from apologetic to acutely focused, staring right into Rama, “but you will bring the disguises and the fake ID now.”

“I will,” she murmured, and she trotted off up the steps.

“Neat trick,” said Phasma.

“Thanks. Phasma, did you come to Kusa B in your own vessel?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Where is it now?” asked Hux. “Only we think Ren’s craft has a tracker on it, and we don’t want anyone putting the flags out for us when we land on D’Qar.”

“Oh, no, I see. It’s parked in the storage bay at the nearest spaceport. There’s plenty of room – I often pick up new workers in it.”

“So could you go and hire a landcruiser and take us to it?”

“Well…OK. You mean now?”

Hux nodded sharply. “I mean now.”

She looked at him, then at Kylo. “You want me to come with you?”

“Well, unless you want to stay here whipping old guys instead,” said Kylo. “But we could really use your muscle.” Phasma’s face fell. “And I could really use your company,” he added.

“All right. I’m off to the hire shop then.”

When Rama returned with the disguises and fake IDs, she made no further attempt to inveigle Kylo into dining with her à deux.

“Thank you very much, Rama,” said Kylo before she left, sweeping a big hand into her hair at the side of her ear and pressing into her temple. “You will forget you ever saw us.”

“Oh, I doubt _that_ ,” she said, reverting to her normal demeanour. “I doubt that very much.”

She turned and left.

“Damn,” said Kylo, shrugging. “Still haven’t got the hang of that one.”

While Phasma sorted out the transport, we got to work on our new guises. Kylo waited for us in the dungeon while we packed and dressed. We had been allocated the typical light coloured tunics and leggings of desert dwellers, with sandshoes, goggles and broad-brimmed hats to match. It was a relief to be out of negligees and cupless bras, although Hux didn’t seem to share my opinion.

“It seems a shame to leave it all behind,” he said, picking up a suspender belt. “In fact, since Rama has squeezed so much money out of you, perhaps a few souvenirs might be in order.”

“Oh, don’t!” I wrapped raggedy bandages around my calf. Hux stuffed a leather strap and a pair of silk-lined handcuffs into my backpack. After a few seconds more thought, he added a bottle of lubricant.

“She won’t miss them,” he said. “Whereas, I will.”

He adjusted his sleeve and picked up an extra little pouch next to the wallet containing the fake IDs.

“Oh,” he said, holding up a bottle and a handful of pale fluff. “Hair dye. And a false beard.”

“Well, it does make sense,” I said. “Much less chance of being recognised.”

He headed to the bathroom while I kept Kylo company in the dungeon, waiting for Phasma.

“So…you and Hux then,” he said, sitting beside me on the spanking bench.

“Uh huh.” Something about Kylo made me terribly uncomfortable, even now. I think it was the Force thing. I’d always been a bit wary of the Force. I hated unquantifiable stuff.

“After all this time,” he continued, staring ahead.

“After all this time,” I confirmed.

“Look,” he said, turning to me in a flurry. “I’m sorry about what happened on Starkiller.”

“It’s all in the past,” I said, waving a hand.

“No, I want to say this. Thing is, I read you both completely wrong. I’ve never done that before and it’s kind of rocked me. I’ve always been well-attuned to people’s emotional states – it’s the one thing I’ve got over on Snoke, who’s shit at it.”

“Is he?” This was interesting.

“Yeah. He can’t seem to catch a vibe. Weird, given the extent of his other powers. Lucky for Hux, too.”

“Very lucky,” I agreed.

“But I could always get Hux. Not as clearly as I’d get other people – he seemed to, I dunno, jam the frequency somehow. But I’d sense his animosity to me.”

I laughed. “Even I got that, and I’m probably worse than Snoke at that kind of thing.”

“Okay, bad example,” he said, joining me in my amusement. “But he hid a lot of what he must have felt for you from me. I couldn’t understand it at all, and when I heard you were getting married…” He shook his head.

“Hux told me he knew how to keep a barrier in front of certain thoughts. He had to, because he had plans to overthrow Snoke. If either of you had read those, he’d have been dead straight away.”

“Right,” said Kylo. “That’s unusual. Only a handful of people can do it.”

“I guess Hux is one of them.”

“But you, too…your emotional vibe was really skewed. I found it almost impossible to gauge. So I kind of assumed you were a gold-digger, attracted to Hux’s power.”

“Oh,” I said, widening my eyes. “I’m hard to read?”

“Very.”

“Well, I’m not neurotypical. Do you think that could be the reason?”

He slapped his knees. “Thank you!” he said. “That’s got to be it. I thought I was losing my powers for a while back there.”

“Nah, you’re still the all-powerful whatever,” I said, flicking my gaze quickly to his, with a smile.

“You act really neurotypical,” he said. “I mean, you know, you don’t come across as…”

“Years of practice,” I told him. “And getting thrown in at the deep end when I lost my parents. Living in a communal setting, I had to make sure people liked me, as a survival mechanism. I copied what I saw the most popular kids doing. When it all got too exhausting, I could shut myself away and code for hours on end.”

Kylo contemplated this for a moment or two. “You were good for him,” he said. “For about three seconds he was almost happy back there. Until I ruined it.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself. I couldn’t have stayed on Starkiller anyway. What you did forced the issue and allowed me to escape.”

“Forgiven then?”

I put a hand on his. “Yeah, forgiven.”

Hux chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom, and looked very askance at our physical contact. We, on the other hand, looked askance at his transformed appearance. How could a change of hair colour and style make _such_ a difference to his face? With unslicked blond hair and the false beard, he looked open and boyish and, though I wouldn’t have dared tell him, awfully _sweet_. Who would believe that pretty face had watched impassively while an entire planetary system burned at his behest?

I took my hand off Kylo’s, somewhat chagrined by Hux’s blatant disapproval. Did he really think I was making a play for the former Knight of Ren? Did his ‘absolute faith’ in me disappear the moment an attractive man entered the ring?

“You look like someone else,” I said.

“Oh? Who?” He drummed restless fingertips against the chin fluff.

“Nobody in particular, just not you.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, clearly keen to put as much distance between me and Kylo as possible.

“Well, that’s the idea, isn’t it?” he said, sliding a hand around the side of my neck. “What’s the matter, Marillia? Isn’t this a face you want to kiss any more?”

“Of course it is,” I said, unsure whether he was genuinely insecure or just a bit piqued.

“Prove it,” he whispered, lowering his lips within an inch of mine.

I was pretty sure now that all this was for Kylo’s benefit, and I frowned up at him.

“Don’t you believe me?”

“Oh, I can read this one,” exclaimed Kylo cheerfully. “This one’s easy. General Hux is jealous. Aww.”

“Shut up, Ren, what do I have to be jealous of?” snapped Hux.

“Please stop calling me Ren. And, to answer the question, I have no idea.”

“I can answer that one too,” I said. “Nothing. You have _nothing_ to be jealous of, and you never will. Okay?”

“Fine, good,” he said, flushing pink at having been caught out in this ignoble state of mind. “I’d still quite like that kiss, though.”

I obliged this time, and was still obliging when the door opened and Phasma clattered down the stairs.

“Landcruiser’s outside,” she panted. “All set and ready to go. Goodness, is that you, General, or has Marillia found another lover?”

“Over my dead body,” he growled, releasing my lips. “All right then. Ren…Ben…Organa…whatever…we’ll wait for you in orbit, or you wait for us. Then we’ll follow you to D’Qar and land somewhere at a safe distance from the Base. Once there, we’ll reconnoitre.”

“Yes, sir,” said Kylo with a sardonic salute. He turned to Phasma. “We haven’t had our moment yet, have we? Let’s make it soon.”

He kissed his fingertips to her and headed away up the stairs.

“Well, then,” said Hux. “We must fly. I presume you’ll be piloting, Captain?”

“Of course,” she said, knitting her brow.

“Because we have more than one experienced pilot here, _don’t we, Marillia_ ,” he said, pinching his fingertips into my elbow as he drew me towards the stairs.

“It’s been a while,” I muttered, trying to shake my arm free of Hux’s iron grip.

He released me, his point made.

“Those skills might come in handy yet,” he said, leading me out of the brothel.

The daylight hit me in the face, making me glad of the protective goggles I’d donned just before leaving. I only wished I could feel glad about everything else.

Lord only knew what that landcruiser was taking us to.


	15. Chapter 15

As we orbited Kusa B, waiting for Kylo’s vessel to ping up on the radar screen, I could tell that Hux was thinking what I was thinking.

I was thinking of the one and only other time we’d been in a spacecraft together, on that tie-fighter flight around Starkiller, on the night he had proposed. I put my finger to the gold choker, and he shut his eyes.

Yes, that was what he was thinking about. I’d never been able to interpret another person’s thoughts before, but with Hux, it seemed to come easily. He was thinking about how magical the experience had seemed at the time, but in the end it had all been about me trying to put together an escape plan. The bittersweetness of it was almost too much, and I had to introduce a change of subject.

“I guess we can’t land in the same place as Kylo,” I said. “Just in case there’s anyone waiting for him.”

Hux cleared his throat. “Right,” he said. “He’s going to indicate a landing spot for us – too bad we can’t communicate between ships, but I suppose we’ll get the gist – then land somewhere near that. We’ll need to ensure the area is in darkness too.” He checked the fuel gauge. “But if we have to hover out of range for a few hours, we can do that.”

“Looking at the predictive tools,” said Phasma, “it should be somewhere around two or three, standard time, when we make planetary space, which is perfect. Dead of the night shift; they won’t have many people on duty. Oh, there he is. Right, let’s cruise for a while and then get ready for the jump.”

“You can make hyperspeed in this thing?” Hux was surprised. “It’s a domestic passenger vessel.”

“I’ve tinkered with the engines over the years,” she said. “Bit of a hobby of mine.”

I allowed silent relief to wash over me. At the back of my mind, I’d had a fear that Kylo would run out on us, take his tidings to mother and leave us to our fate. Whether he really felt a new camaraderie with us, or whether he was just hot for Phasma I didn’t know, but either way, it was good news.

Phasma entertained us throughout the flight with tales of her picaresque adventures in the galactic sex trade, which was a useful distraction against the anxiety which might otherwise have engulfed me. It was undeniable that the chances of me and Hux making it off this planet together and alive were vanishingly slim. Whenever a gap in Phasma’s narrative occurred, it was filled with Kirin’s face. Would I ever see it again?

Horrible visions of him at my graveside barged into my consciousness. Hux seemed to sense this, reaching out and putting his hand on mine.

_Stop catastrophising_. His earlier advice floated in the compressed air between us. It was good advice. I shut the visions out and asked Phasma another question about the kinky predilections of the Coruscant senators.

We landed, bumpily and with a lot of swearing on Phasma’s part, in a scrubby clearing at the edge of some woodland. The woodland seemed to surround the base, because its high wire fencing could be seen through the trees, only  a few hundred yards distant. If traffic was being monitored, we must have been registered, but in these times of ‘peace’ there was every reason to imagine monitoring was sporadic and lackadaisical.

There was no time to worry about anything like that anyway. Immediately we set off towards the rear of the base, Phasma navigating with a compass and a map she’d got from Kylo, as the planet was an intentional satellite blindspot.

It took only half an hour to reach the correct co-ordinates, and Kylo waited for us, leaning on the fence with a laconic air, as if to ask what had kept us.

“These are the staff quarters,” he said softly, waving a hand at the squat cinderblock buildings within. No time for pleasantries, not that he’d ever been known for them. “I can get you inside without any checks, but after that, you’re on your own. Snoke will have got my scent by now – if he’s asleep, it’ll wake him – so I’m going to have to go and pay a call on Rey. Your best bet for a terminal to hack is the one in my room – second floor underground, last on the left. Since I’m not officially here, it won’t be bugged and nobody’s likely to disturb you.”

“Right,” said Hux. “What’s your password?”

There was an awkward silence.

“I thought Marillia was this shit hot hacker,” Kylo objected.

“It could save us a lot of time if you just told us,” I said. “I can get in anyway, but it’ll just take longer…”

“Okay, okay.” Kylo took a breath. “It’s F-U-H-U-X-U-A-S-S. Sixteen.”

“Fuck you, Hux, you ass,” I translated, making the most of my opportunity to speak words that would ordinarily heap retribution upon me.

“I wanted ‘asshole’ but it was too many characters,” he said, grinning now at my efforts to suppress a fit of the giggles.

“How very mature,” said Hux witheringly, but that set us off even more, and Phasma joined in with a snort.

“Oh, come on, Hux, don’t tell me your password isn’t something like that about me,” said Kylo.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You aren’t that important to me,” said Hux. “I stick to random sequences of characters, as the techies constantly harangue us to.”

“Wise man,” said Kylo, bowing his head. “Shall we?”

He put his pass to a security-locked gate and it swung stiffly open, admitting us to the compound. I waited for slavering hounds to appear, or at least have some weapons pointed at me, but we made it to the door of the building without event.

“Okay, here’s where we split,” whispered Kylo as the door lock clicked and it opened automatically. “My room – second floor down. Rey’s is on this floor.”

“Should I come with you?” asked Phasma. “You might need a friend, if you’re going head to head with Snoke.”

“Well…all right,” he said. “But don’t come into the room with me. Wait outside and listen. I’m hoping there won’t be a struggle but…”

“Good luck,” I whispered, suddenly aghast at the enormity of all this. Kylo was heading off to meet _Snoke_ , for Sith’s sake. Why was he treating it like a thumb-wrestle between friends?

“Thanks,” he said, winking at me. “Take care of the General there, won’t you? I’ll come up and find you when Rey’s safely under.”

“I still think it would be safer to kill her,” said Hux.

“I still think you’re an asshole,” said Kylo and with that parting shot he turned and strode off.

Hux, breathing out his irritation, took my hand and led me to the stairs. The building was utilitarian and delapidated; it certainly wasn’t going to win any design awards, but it still beat Starkiller for warmth and humanity.

Arriving at Kylo’s room, we checked to make sure no cameras were on us, and slipped inside. Did General Organa sleep next door? We knew we were going to have to keep the noise well down, no matter who might occupy the other quarters in the corridor.

Making sure I had the right switch and wasn’t about to blast loud music into the room, I put the lights up to a dim twenty per cent. Hux looked around with disdain at the giant posters of famous Jedi knights and scale models of battlecraft. It was rather like one of the dorm rooms at the Institute – Kylo seemed to be living out his lost youth. Or perhaps this was how it had been when he left to follow Snoke, and nothing had been changed since?

His terminal sat on a desk in a corner of the room; I went straight to it and fired it up.

“How easy will it be to access the security protocols?” asked Hux, hovering by the door and listening hard.

“Give me a chance. It’s still booting up.”

“I want to know how many ex-Order operatives are on site,” he said twitchily. “If it comes to man-to-man combat, which it well may, I’d rather we weren’t outnumbered.”

“If Snoke’s cast this kind of protective veil thing over them, we can’t, can we? Unless he dies.”

“Ren should just run him through with his sabre,” muttered Hux. “It’s the logical thing to do.”

“Would you do that to me? If Snoke went and hid inside me?”

“No, of course not, but you’re not Force sensitive…”

“That’s why Kylo can’t do it to Rey,” I said firmly. “And you shouldn’t ask him to.”

Hux bit the inside of his cheek, but I could tell he had a retort he was dying to make. He thought better of it, and pulled out his blaster for inspection instead.

“I’m in!” I announced, smiling at the Resistance landing page.

“Good. Before you start work in earnest, can you call me up a map of this place? I might as well make myself useful and study our surroundings, in case it should be necessary to run or hide.”

“OK…just a moment…”

A few keystrokes called up a holo projection of the base plans, which Hux set to committing to his memory while I figured out how to hack into the secure pages.

“How long do you think this will take?” asked Hux, about twenty minutes later.

“Not too much longer, hopefully,” I said. “It’s not the most sophisticated encryption I’ve ever seen…pretty old hat…maybe half an hour, forty five minutes tops.”

Hux grunted and went back to the map.

“I’d feel better if Ren were here,” he said. “Which is a sentence I never expected to pass my lips. What the hell is he doing? Performing brain surgery on her?”

“Phasma would have come to find us if there was a problem,” I said. “Oh! Yes. Yes, you beauty!”

“Thanks,” deadpanned Hux, and I looked round at him, risking a giggle.

“Right,” I said. “Now we’re in business.” I began hammering away at the keys, altering subtle details here and there, ensuring nobody but me would be able to enforce a galaxy-wide shutdown. “I’m going to look at the duty rotas after this,” I said. “See if I can work out any patterns that might help us identify the ex-Order personnel.”

“Good thinking,” said Hux. “Carry on.”

For ten minutes I concentrated fiercely on my work, tunnel-visioned to the extent that I almost forgot Hux was in the room.

I was only brought out of my trance by a sharp knock on the door.

My fingers froze on the keys and I looked at Hux, who was positioning himself in a blind spot with his blaster drawn.

“Couldn’t be Kylo?” I mouthed.

Hux shook his head.

The knock came again, louder and more impatient.

“Ben? Hey, Ben?” A voice, male, young-sounding. “Just caught your craft on the night radar. Are you in there? Are you sleeping?”

Silence, then a sigh.

“OK, buddy, I guess you’re sleeping. It’s Finn. Come see me when you wake up. Oh, except I guess you can’t hear me, can you? I’ll come back later. I’m on duty here anyway – better get back.”

Footsteps scurried off and we drew a collective breath.

Hux reholstered the blaster and I returned to my screen.

“Better barricade the door,” he decided, removing the debris from the top of Kylo’s nightstand and lifting it with some difficulty.

He was mid-stagger, his gasps of effort punctuating my re-encrypting, when the door opened.

Several things happened simultaneously.

Hux dropped the nightstand and made a panicky hand-flapping gesture behind his back at me, which I took as an order to duck.

I slid straight off the deskchair and underneath the desk, where I crouched, ears thundering, waiting for our doom.

A woman’s voice, querulous with broken sleep, spoke into the stricken air.

“Ben? Did I hear right? Are you…”

There was a flash of gunfire and I put my head out, desperate with anxiety.

What I saw was both a relief and a threat. General Leia Organa stood, tiny and wrapped in a thick towelling dressing gown, but as formidable as anyone I had ever seen, with a weapon drawn and pointed at Hux, who had been disarmed but not hurt.

He stood, shocked at having been so bested, with his hands half-up in reluctant surrender. Carrying that nightstand had obviously slowed his reactions, or perhaps Organa was the sharpest shot in the galaxy. Either way, this was trouble.

With a superhuman effort of will, I crept back out of Organa’s sight, peeking through a tiny gap in the join of the woodwork.

“Who the hell are you?” demanded Organa, jabbing at Hux’s chest with her handgun.

“General, I am here on urgent business, in the service of the galaxy,” he said. His military bearing and clipped speech, contrasting strongly with his desert peasant garb, made her narrow her eyes.

“I’ll repeat the question, shall I?” she said. “But don’t try my patience. It’s pretty thin at the best of times and at…” She looked at her wristcomm. “…4.50, it’s just about at snapping point.”

“I came here with Kylo…with Ben Organa,” said Hux. “He let me in here in order to…”

“Hey, hey, back up a little, son,” she said. Hux remained stiff as a board. I’m not sure he appreciated being referred to as ‘son’. “You came here with Ben? So where is he?”

“He is with your colleague, Rey,” said Hux.

“Oh, well _that_ figures,” said Organa, not sounding best pleased. “But why should I believe you? You still haven’t told me who you are.”

“I’m a friend of Ben’s,” Hux prevaricated. “And he and I are both here to ensure…”

“Wait. Shut up. I know your voice.” She took a step closer, her eyes fixed on his face. “You’re…I don’t believe it…” She reached out, grabbed a handful of his fake beard and stripped it right off his skin. Ouch. I heard his hiss of discomfort, and pictured the angry red patch that replaced the blond fluff.

She spoke into her wristcomm. “General Organa, calling for backup, staff quarters room 23, _now_.”

Looking up again, she smiled grimly. “So, General Hux,” she said. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you. I’d never have predicted that, when I finally did, it would be in my son’s bedroom.”

“You have to listen to me,” he said urgently. “I’m on your side now, and…”

She laughed loudly. “Of course you are. I suppose you want mitigation on your sentence. Well, I’m not falling for that one, sonny boy. You destroyed an entire system, and don’t forget, I _know_ how it feels to lose a home planet. Your trashy little life for all those lives you took – it’s not really justice, is it, but it’s the best we’ve got.”

“The First Order are planning to rise again under Snoke’s banner,” continued Hux.

“Oh boy, don’t tell me, yet _another_ Death Star in yet _another_ uncharted system. You guys never, ever learn, do you? I guess that’s why you keep losing.”

“No, that’s not it, not this time,” Hux continued, breathless now, his words falling over each other in his haste to get them out. “They’re _here_ , Snoke and the remnants of the Order are right here on your base, and have been for some time…”

“Okay, now I know you’re crazy. You don’t think we’d notice that freak and his cronies? How’s a bunch of wanted war criminals going to stroll in here? Come on. Give me something at least halfway believable. You know, I was told you were smart. Tcha.” She shook her head in mock disappointment.

“They…” began Hux, but he was interrupted by the arrival of four uniformed heavies with blasters out.

“At last,” said Organa. “Two of you would have done, but better to be overmanned than under, I guess. We have a guest, gentlemen. See that he’s given the finest hospitality our cells have to offer, will you? In the meantime, I’m getting on to the head of Penal Services to see how soon he can get us a transfer shuttle to Max One Point One.”

I put my hand over my mouth to prevent my cry of horror escaping. What should I do? Should I come out of hiding and try to convince Organa she was making a wrong move? No. I decided the chances of me succeeding in that were lower than the chances of my being shoved in jail along with Hux. If I stayed out, I could spring him, and find Kylo and Phasma into the bargain. Organa would _have_ to listen to her own son, whereas I could be any old First Order allegiant.

It almost killed me to see Hux cuffed – especially when I noticed that one of the officiating guards was none other than the vile Lieutenant Dobar – but I had to keep my cover.

“This is a mistake, General,” he said to Organa. “I hope you will interrogate me personally. I won’t keep anything from you.”

I held my breath, praying that he didn’t reveal any of his knowledge in front of Dobar, whom he clearly hadn’t recognised. That would be one quick route to a swift ‘shot-in-the-head-while-resisting-arrest’ death.

“I’ll look forward to it,” said Organa.

All I could do was watch as he was jostled out of the room. He didn’t even look back, though I suppose that was tactically the right thing to do.

All the same, bleak hopelessness overwhelmed me. How was I going to do this without Hux?

What if our future was over now, before it had even begun?


	16. Chapter 16

For the first few moments after Hux was hustled away, General Organa remained in the room, staring blankly at the holo map. She took a step towards it, and my throat closed in panic. She would only have to look down and a little to the left to catch a glimpse of my feet.

She moved towards the terminal. This was it. I couldn’t conceal myself if she stood right on top of me.

“General!” A voice from the corridor – it sounded like Finn again. “Come see the video caps from the back entry camera. We’ve caught four people coming in – one of them is Ben, but the other three… Well, I definitely recognise one of them, and there’s another that might be…”

Organa left the room. “It’s okay, Finn, we’re on it. Four, you say? I was only aware of two.”

She pulled the door half-closed behind her and I exhaled hugely.

I heard the buzz of their conversation as I crawled out from under the desk. I wanted them to go, quickly, now, so I could leave. In the meantime, I scanned the holo map for the location of the cells.

“Two women,” I heard Finn say, then his voice lowered and became unintelligible.

“Really? Your ex-captain? Didn’t she die at Starkiller?”

“Well, we thought so, but just come _see_.”

“I’ll be along in a second, Finn. I just want to double check Ben’s room, see what that bastard was up to on his terminal.”

_Shit!_

I looked around the room in a panic. Up on the corner of one wall was a large air vent – if I climbed on the desk I could reach it. It was the old-fashioned design, the type you could remove by fiddling with the corners.

Impelled by terror, I scrambled on to the desk and removed the big rectangular venting plate – it was a good couple of feet high and a little more than that wide, providing ample space for me to wriggle inside the pipe. I managed to refit the plate just as General Organa backed into the room, still calling after Finn.

“Two minutes, I promise.”

I sat back in the pipe, my spine bent in sympathy with its curve, gathering myself. I knew how to get to the cells if I used the corridors, but did the pipe connect with the main body of the base, or would I have to get out and try to get over there without being seen or challenged? According to the map, in between the staff quarters and the headquarters was an expanse of concrete yard, beneath which lay a couple of storeys of storage. The piping might extend through these junk repositories, but it was by no means a given.

I felt in my tunic for the stolen communicator. It was still there. I could use it to create a diversion, if necessary. But that was a bridge I’d cross when I came to it. For now, I had to try and find Kylo and Phasma.

I crawled along the shallow cylindrical corridor, peering through each vent in turn as I passed. They all looked into darkened bedrooms, most of them containing sleeping Resistance personnel. After a dozen or so of these, I came upon an empty staffroom. In the corner, service droids rested in standby mode. Was this a good place to climb out? It was about five now – people would start waking and coming in for a morning cup of caffa in about an hour. I was probably safe.

I began to twiddle the corner of the vent plate, but a throbbing, buzzing sound from further down the pipe made me stop to prick up my ears. Was there some kind of electrical fault somewhere? I crawled further along. The sound became louder, but it wasn’t at a uniform volume. It rose and fell sporadically, with episodes of swooshing in between.

As I bent to peer through the next vent, the mystery was solved in the most heart-stopping manner possible.

The noise came from lightsabres, and the lightsabres were wielded by Kylo and Rey.

Or, in this case, by Rey alone, who had the tip of her weapon against Kylo’s adam’s apple, ready to push through and finish the job.

“I’m only asking you to leave her,” he said in a hoarse gasp. “Just get out of her and I’ll leave you alone. Do what you want. Just leave first.”

“You aren’t a position to make bargains,” hissed Rey, and I knew Snoke was speaking through her.

What the hell was I to do? Without stopping to think, I began to loosen the vent, as silently as I could.

“Tell me where Hux is,” continued Rey. “If he has his memories back, I have to kill him. Give him to me, and perhaps I’ll consider releasing your little scavenger friend.”

“Hux is here,” whispered Kylo. “He’s here…he’s in this building…”

“Convenient,” said Snoke/Rey. “The pair of you will be no more than ashes very soon. Unless, of course, I can interest you in coming back to me. Back to the Dark side. Think about it, my best and brightest knight. Think about the enormous power we could share.”

“You aren’t interested in sharing power,” said Kylo. “You just want your little apprentice back at your beck and call. Well, that’s not me any more.”

“Pity,” said Snoke. “So promising. Too promising to die, but if you insist…ugh!”

The small figure of Rey crumpled to the floor, hit on the back of the head by the air vent plate, which I had hurled through the air as hard as I possibly could, scoring an unexpected jackpot.

Kylo looked up first, then fell to his knees beside the unconscious Rey, running his hands over her head.

“Marillia! What are you _doing_?”

“Saving your life, I thought. Is she OK?”

I jumped down from the vent and joined him, hoping upon hope I hadn’t killed her.

“Pulse is fine but we need to get her to the med bay,” he said, scooping her up into his arms.

“Where’s Phasma?”

“I think she went to find you. Where’s Hux?”

“In the cells.”

“Shit! What? Why?”

“Slight altercation with your mother. He tried to make her listen but…”

I paused for breath, half-running to keep up with him as he paced through the corridors and up the stairs.

“Yeah, I know the problem,” muttered Kylo.

“So you have to talk to her, urgently,” I said. “Because there are definitely people here I recognise from Starkiller. Dobar for one – he was one of the guards who took Hux down. I wouldn’t put it past him to just kill Hux to get him out of the way once and for all.”

“Dobar, right, that asshole,” said Kylo, grimacing at Rey’s ever paler face. “Wait. You recognised him?”

“I…oh. Yes. I suppose I did. But Hux obviously didn’t…”

Kylo pulled up for a second, staring at me.

“That brain of yours is a marvel of medical science,” he said, resuming his long, swift stride.

“It has been said,” I replied, somewhat breathlessly, as I trotted in his wake.

“OK,” he said, turning a corner so sharply I nearly crashed into him. “I’ll talk to ma. But I have to get Rey seen to first. Here we are.”

We burst into a low-lit medical room with two beds and further rooms beyond. Kylo dropped his burden on to a cot and called through the open partition.

“Hey – got a head injury here. Anyone on duty or do I have to treat it myself?”

He held her wrist as if needing to maintain a link with her pulse in order to perpetuate her existence.

A severe-looking woman emerged from the staff room, tightening her lips at Kylo.

“Your highness,” she said, which threw me for a moment until I realised she must mean Kylo. “I had no idea you were back. Oh.” She stopped and surveyed the patient. “What happened to her?”

“Accidental blow to the back of the head with a blunt instrument,” I said.

“Accidental?” The medic raised an eyebrow at both of us.

“Yes,” said Kylo brusquely. “Can you run the necessary scans?”

“Of course.”

“And if she regains consciousness,” he said after a second’s pause, “can you give her something to put her out again? It’s very important. I can’t stress enough how important it is.”

“I don’t care how important it is, it’s against the code of practice! And it’s unethical.”

Kylo sighed and put his hand out towards the woman’s brow. She gasped and tried to dodge away, but too late.

“The patient must remain unconscious,” he intoned.

“The patient must remain unconscious,” echoed the medic faintly.

“I don’t want to leave her,” said Kylo, lingering by the door to watch the medic lower some diagnostic imaging equipment over Rey’s head.

“You must love her,” I said.

“Yeah…I mean, what?” He cast me a swift but troubled glance before looking back at Rey. “I don’t…well, maybe I might…” He shook his head vigorously and turned away. “Come on. Let’s find ma.”

“She went with someone called Finn to look at some vid caps,” I told him. “I suppose she’s somewhere in headquarters.”

Kylo nodded and led me through the maze of corridors until we were outside again. We ran full-pelt across the darkened asphalt, past the shadowy hulks of X-wing fighters, towards a large open double door manned by security guards.

We had no trouble passing them – apparently, if I was with Kylo, I was cleared. We hurried down a steep concrete incline into a bunker which appeared to house the centre of operations, spotlit and crowded with terminals.

It wasn’t hard to find General Organa – the place was sparsely populated, with just a dozen or so nightshift staff, mostly in a huddle in one corner of the hangar-like space. In the centre of the cluster, towered over by most of the others, was the General, still in her towelling dressing gown.

“This is crazy,” she was saying. “Why would Ben bring them in? Do you think he’s turned on us?”

“No, I haven’t turned on you,” he said, and they all jumped, which would have been quite amusing if I hadn’t been so tightly-strung with my fears for Hux.

“Ben! Tell me what this is,” said his mother, jabbing a finger at a caption on the screen behind them. It showed the four of us stealing in through the external gate.

He bent to my ear first and said, “Do you recognise any of these people, Marillia?”

I took a good look at the group, but none of them were familiar. Of course, my sojourn at Starkiller had been brief, and I had only made acquaintance with a handful of staff. I wouldn’t recognise any of the starfleet crew, or the academy teachers, or the many thousands who worked in civilian roles across the Unknown Regions. And that was before you factored in the Stormtroopers.

“No, but that doesn’t mean they’re all OK.”

He nodded and cleared his throat.

“We have a problem,” he said.

“Yes, you bet your ass we do,” snapped the General. “The First Order is _here_ , in _my_ base. And you let them in! Who’s this one anyway? None of us could ID her.”

“You’re right, the First Order is here,” said Kylo, scanning the group closely, one by one. “But what you don’t know is that they’ve been here for years. They’ve infiltrated every military outpost in the galaxy, including this one, and you’ve let them in.”

“What? For Sith’s sake, what is this crap? Has Hux got you under some kind of hypnosis?”

“No, and you need to release him from the cells,” said Ben. “Snoke is here, ma. Snoke has taken over Rey’s body and he’s going to take over the galaxy if we don’t do something.”

There was a stunned silence during which everybody goggled at Kylo, apart from one person, who edged away from the main body of the group and spoke softly into a wristcomm. An ex-Order person warning his colleagues that the plan was in jeopardy?

I took advantage of my place outside the focal point of attention and crept slowly backwards, into the gloomy shadows created by the low lighting.

“Ben,” said his mother, her tone a mix of maternal exasperation and utter bemusement. “Snoke in Rey’s body? Don’t you think I’d notice?”

Kylo let out a noise of pure frustration and banged his fist on the nearest console, causing some minor damage. Old habits died hard, apparently.

“Just listen to me,” he said between gritted teeth.

I moved further back.

“Everything I say is true. Snoke wiped Hux’s memory of the plan. After his jailbreak, he contacted me so I could replace them – and that’s what we found.”

“Hux contacted you and you went to him? Kriff, Ben, _why_? Why didn’t you call Law Enforcement straightaway?”

“Well, it wasn’t quite like that, it was…it’s complicated… Look, we have to act. That guy standing right next to you could be ex-Order.”

“What, Jeyrel?” The pair of them laughed and Kylo kicked a desk chair over.

I was halfway back to the exit now and still nobody had noticed my retreat. The man who had spoken into his wristcomm was increasingly agitated, looking for a way to detach himself from the group.

“Don’t make me use the Force,” warned Kylo.

“Ben Solo Organa!” General Organa’s next words could easily be, “Go to your room!”, but I didn’t hear what her next words were because I’d made it to the hangar door, and I noticed off to the left a ladder leading into the depths of the underground. To the cells.

I took a few breaths, uttered a silent prayer to whatever, and smashed my fist into the fire alarm on the wall. Then I slipped into an alcove behind the ladder and waited.

The first out were, predictably, General Organa and her crew, with Kylo.

“Who’s marshalling?” she called. “Who’s the night marshal?”

“I am,” said Finn, hurrying out behind her. “Come on, everybody out to the flight zone. I’ll go check the staff quarters are being evacuated.”

“Can you see any smoke?”

“Could be underground. Probably the kitchens; almost breakfast time. Move. MOVE!”

They were gone, and nobody had seen me, or even thought about me, apart from Kylo, who kept looking around in confusion. I guess he assumed I’d got out before him, though.

In surges, groups came up the ladder from the various floors below. The early morning cleaning droids, buckets clanking as they made their slow, purposeful ascent. The kitchen staff - some humanoid, some droid, all puzzled - asking each other if they’d checked this hob or that oven. The night time security patrol, trying to calm their anxious dogs over the high pitched shrill of the alarm. Finally, the group I needed to see appeared. The prison guards, escorting two prisoners, neither of whom were Hux.

I clenched my fists, dismissing the urge to leap out at them and demand to know where he was. Had he escaped already? Had he been… Oh Lord. No. They wouldn’t have killed him…would they?

As soon as they had marched on into the emergent light of dawn, I shinned down the ladder, and the two ladders below it, until I was in the very depths of the base. The security doors had all been left open, so the narrow corridor housing three cells on either side was easily accessible, but it was in total darkness.

“Wil!” I called, checking each cell in turn for signs of him.

No answer.

“Are you here?” I felt my hysteria rising. If he wasn’t here, then where? _Where_?

I checked again, and this time I was able to make out a dark shape on the floor of one of the cells.

“Is that you? Wil? Wake up! Is that you?”

I banged on the transparisteel door, but if the shape was human, the noise didn’t rouse him. A keycard was needed to open it; I ran back to the small office at the other end of the corridor and scrabbled on the desks and in the drawers for anything I could use. The alarm screeched on, keying my nerves up to near snapping point.

No keycards to be found, but the terminal on the desk was still on. I could override the system, unlock everything. Could I do it before my fire alarm ruse was discovered and everyone came back?

“Shit, shit, shit,” I whispered under my breath, trying to decide whether to prioritise finding a light switch or doing this. Doing this won.

It was a simple system and I found the lock override straight away – apparently they’d used it to free the other prisoners, then re-locked this one particular cell. Why had they done that?

_Dobar_ , I thought. _Either he’s killed him already, or has decided to let him burn._

Bile had risen to the very top of my throat and my chest burned as I swung open the door and threw myself on to my knees beside the dark shape that lay on the floor.

I put a hand on it. Human. Not cold – not dead, or at least, not for long. I reached out and touched the face, found the mouth, felt soft breath on my fingers. It was him.

I let out a mad sob, of relief, or panic, or terror, or all of the above. Something warm oozed on my fingertips where I had touched him. Blood.

“Wil, Wil,” I whispered, bending over him and shaking his lifeless arm. “You have to wake up. You have to.”

But he was out cold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of Hux in this chapter - I promise I'll make up for it in the next one.


	17. Chapter 17

I tried and tried to wake him, but I was scared to attempt anything too vigorous in case the shock sent him over the cusp of life and death. He had a pulse, and it seemed strong enough, but I had no way of knowing the extent of any internal damage.

Unless he awoke, there was no way I could get him out of here. Carrying him was out of the question, especially up that vertical ladder.

“I wish you’d wake up,” I said, my tears falling on to his now-beardless face. “I wish you’d be well. I don’t know what to do without you. I love you so much.”

“That’s all very well but we need more than love now.”

I jolted back, and looked into a beam of torchlight. Above it, Phasma’s face glowed eerily in the surrounding darkness.

“Oh, lord, it’s you.” My heart re-started.

“What have they done to him?” She came to crouch beside me. Her torch revealed the extent of his injuries – his torn tunic uncovered patches of heavy bruising, but the only damage to his face was a cut just below his ear, from which the blood was already drying.

“He won’t wake up,” I wept. “Is he going to die?”

“It looks like he’s had a good kicking,” said Phasma. “We need to get him to the med bay.”

“I know where that is,” I said, sniffing.

“They should have a stock of Stam 202,” she said. “It’s what I use on fallen Stormtroopers in battle. Stimulates the brain, gets them going again more often than not. Come on.”

Without further ado, she lifted him over her shoulder and marched towards the ladder.

“You can’t carry him up that,” I said.

“No,” she agreed. “But that’s what elevators are for, isn’t it?”

“There’s an elevator!”

I hadn’t even thought to look. Of course, nobody would be using it in a fire drill.

We were able to get across to the med bay without drawing any attention – as far as we could see, everybody was still milling about by the flight hangars while the fire crew conducted a thorough check of all the buildings.

Entering the staff quarters, I wondered what the medic would have done with Rey. Would she still be in the ward, or wheeled outside on a gurney? If she regained consciousness out there, what then? I could only hope Kylo would be able to deal with it.

The med bay proved to be empty. Phasma unloaded Hux on to a cot; in the bright light of the overhead lamps, his condition looked worse than ever. I had never seen him so pale; he had a bluish tinge that petrified me.

“His major bones all look intact,” said Phasma, running quick and practised hands over him. “But he’s cracked a couple of ribs, I think. The rest seems to be superficial. Looks worse than it is. It’s his head I’m worried about.”

“That stuff – Stam or whatever – can you give it to him?” I collapsed in the bedside chair and stroked his hair off his face with compulsive repetitiveness.

“I’ll go and look for it.”

I listened to her rummaging, looking up at the diagnostic tool the medic had used on Rey. Would I be able to make any sense of it if I tried to scan his brain? Probably not, although I might be able to identify any bleeds.

“They haven’t touched his head,” said Phasma, returning with her hands full, and nodding at the imaging tool. “Obviously whoever did this didn’t _aim_ to kill him, which is in our favour. The cut on his ear is probably accidental. I’m concerned that they might have ruptured an internal organ though…oh my stars. What is _that_?”

She’d seen his First Order scar-tattoo. It was dark red now, and getting darker as the blood stained and dried inside his skin.

“He did it after I left Starkiller,” I said, my voice dry and cracked. “Can you inject it? Have you got what you need?”

In answer, she filled a syringe with clear liquid from a bottle and came to hover over Hux.

“This stuff has a heavy-duty painkiller mixed in with it,” she said. “The idea is that your wounded soldier can continue to fight. The brain stimulant stops him getting woozy from the painkiller, and the painkiller, well. It kills pain. It’s been pretty effective, but I tend to try and get my troops out of battle after about an hour or so, which is when it begins to wear off.” She looked up at me, rolling her eyes. “Listen to me. You’d think I was Captain Phasma again. Right. Hold him down by the shoulder, will you – they have a tendency to try and sit bolt upright, which is rarely a good idea.”

I followed her advice, laying a tentative hand on him.

“Wake up,” I whispered, as Phasma found a vein and pierced it with her syringe. “Come back to me.”

I felt a ripple beneath my palm and I pushed down harder. His eyelashes began to flutter madly.

“Yes, yes,” I urged him. “Please be well, please be all right.”

As Phasma had predicted, he tried to sit up, even before his eyes were open, but I kept him flat on the cot while Phasma secured him by the knees.

After uncountable seconds, his eyes flew wide open. They were bloodshot but their gaze was the clear, cool green-blue I knew so well.

“Hello,” I said, tears spilling out again. “You’re alive.”

“Am I?” he breathed, looking up at me with his lips slightly parted. I bent to kiss his forehead.

“Can you make a fist?” bossed Phasma from the foot of the bed, releasing his knees. He could. “Waggle your feet for me, please.” It could be done. “Now, can you try and sit up?”

He tried, but it took a long time, and I had to support his back while he made the attempt.

“What do you think?” I asked Phasma anxiously.

“There’s a bit of colour in him now,” she said. “Which wouldn’t be the case if he had a severe internal bleed. Just keep talking to him, make sure what he says makes sense. If he has any kind of fit, or starts to slur, come out and find the medic immediately. Look, I’m going to have to go. I need to find Kylo. He was in serious trouble when I left him…”

“It’s OK. Rey lost that fight,” I told her, tearing my eyes from Hux for a second.

“Did she?” Phasma positively beamed. “I mean – do you mean he killed her?”

“No, but she was out for the count when I last saw her.”

“Marvellous,” said Phasma, and she almost skipped out of the room.

Hux had lain himself back down. He was passing his hands over his upper body, pressing into the fleshy spaces where the bruising was worst, assessing his own condition.

“If they were trying to kill me, that was a pathetic effort,” he said in a dry, raspy voice. I poured him some water.

“Who did it? Was it Dobar?”

“Dobar?” He took a gulp of water and frowned at me while he swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“One of those guards who took you down was Dobar. But of course, you didn’t recognise him because of the…”

“Ah. One of them did seem familiar, but I just couldn’t place him. He wasn’t involved in this, though. This was the jailers.”

“Why did they do it?” I winced on his behalf as he tried to twist his body, his broken ribs preventing the full manoeuvre.

“One of them had a sister on Hosnian Prime,” he said.

“Ah.”

He looked bleakly up at the brain scanner above him.

“Understandable, I suppose.”

“They could have killed you.”

“No, they were careful. Left my head alone. Kicked clear of the major organs. I don’t suppose they wanted Leia Organa on their back, and I can’t say I blame them. Oh, love, why are you crying? I’m all right. Look at me. Fine. A bit of bruising, that’s all.”

He reached for my hand and squeezed it. I lay my head down beside his on the pillow and wetted the cotton with my tears.

“Sorry,” I said. “Really thought you were a goner for a while back there.”

“Not me,” he said, stroking my fingers. “Not while I have you to look out for. Speaking of which…” He made the effort to prop himself up a little, but it was clearly more painful than the analgesics could fully conquer. “What’s going on? What’s that appalling racket?”

“It’s the fire alarm. I set it off, so I could get you out of the cells. Didn’t really work the way I thought it would.”

“So everyone’s out of the building?”

“For now.”

“Well, that could work in our favour. Having everyone in one place at one time. Have you seen Ren?”

“Yes, and Snoke is out to get him, and you. But we managed to neutralise Rey – as far as I know, she’s still unconscious.”

“Excellent. And General Organa? Is she fully apprised of the situation?”

“Well…Kylo was _trying_ to make her understand…”

Hux rolled his eyes. “I daresay she didn’t want to hear it. Fatal mistake. All intel should be treated with equal weight until there is a reason to discount it.”

“As the handbook says,” I sniffed, wiping my tears.

“It was policy for a reason,” he sniffed back, brushing them off my cheek with the back of his hand. “Come on, then. If General Organa wilfully refuses to save the galaxy, I suppose it’s down to us.”

“Wil, you can’t…” I said, trying to push him back down, but he brushed me aside with surprising force for a man with cracked ribs and the worst bruising I’d ever seen. That Stam had to be good stuff.

“Do you think I’m going to lie around in bed while Snoke seizes power?” he scolded. “I thought you knew me better than that, Marillia.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Rey’s out cold.”

“And how do you think the concealed ex-Order staff with which this base is crawling are going to react when they see that?” he asked tartly.

It was a fair point. And we still had no idea how many of them there actually were. Perhaps their system-shutdown plan might have been scuppered, but there was plenty of other substantial damage they could cause.

“If I were Organa,” said Hux, on his feet now and able to move, albeit stiffly, towards the door, “I’d be putting a very strong guard on my munitions supplies. Not to mention locking down the base.”

“What if I go and get Kylo to warn her? He’s still the one she’s most likely to listen to. I just think she’ll take one look at you and have you re-arrested.”

“There’s only so many times she can throw me in the cells,” said Hux. “And besides, if I know General Bleeding-Heart Organa, when she sees the state of me, she’ll boot those jailers on to janitorial duties faster than you can fill in a sudoku grid.”

“That’s quite fast,” I said, giggling despite myself.

“I’m sure it is. So our position may be stronger than you think.”

We were crossing the vast tarmac area by the flight hangars now. They were deserted, apart from a dark-haired man in a flight suit hurrying towards an X-wing fighter. He appeared not to see us, thankfully, and we continued to sidle along the edge of the buildings until we were able to see what was happening at the fire marshalling point.

We stood hand-in-hand at the corner of the hangar, hardly able to believe the sight that revealed itself.

Towering some twenty feet high over the crowd below was a figure I had only seen in hologrammatic form, and that only once – but once had been more than enough.

Snoke.

“Oh no,” I breathed, reaching for Hux’s hand and grasping it in panic.

“He’s out of the girl,” said Hux. “He must have been forced out, to show himself like this.”

“Perhaps she’s dead.” The horrible thought struck me just as the heavy vent panel had struck Rey – with a hard, dull impact. If she was dead, I had killed her.

Across the concourse, scores of Resistance people trailed, hands on heads, while armed guards chivvied them along with guns and prods. They appeared to be heading to a low concrete building with a number of bright red safety notices nailed to the walls.

Only a very few people now remained in the vicinity of Snoke – I could make out Kylo and General Organa as two of them, but I didn’t recognise any of the others. A gurney, with the lifeless figure of Rey strapped to it, was parked alongside Kylo.

“What’s he doing?” Hux asked himself, breaking cover to get near enough to make out Snoke’s words.

“Don’t – he’ll see you!” I agonised, but Hux shook his head and motioned me forwards with him.

“Nobody’s watching us,” he said, and it was true. Shock and dread had placed all the focus on Snoke and their ex-Order captors.

“…your catastrophic failure to keep a watch at all times. You will pay for this, General Organa, a thousandfold. Your peace is over, your Republic falls again. All you can do now is save those few miserable souls who have had faith in you.” A repulsive shiver went through Snoke’s corpulent body and he emitted something like a chuckle.

“How do I do it?” said the General. “What do you want?”

Snoke pivoted slightly, looking over at the low building to which the prisoners had been led. They were now all inside it, locked in, while their captors stood a few yards distant, grouped around Dobar, who held some kind of device above his head.

“I want this galaxy,” said Snoke. “But I understand that a glitch in your systems has taken that possibility from us for now.”

“Well done,” whispered Hux, squeezing my hand.

“It doesn’t prevent me from wiping you out,” continued Snoke. “And regrouping here. My operatives will send radio distress calls claiming that you have all been killed in a cataclysmic accident. Help will arrive. We will be ready. We will seize control of all military space in this galaxy. From such a position, a coup will be very easy to arrange.”

“So I can’t save anyone, then?” said Organa. “You’re going to kill us all anyway?”

“I will make you an offer,” said Snoke. “I will spare the lives of those people who are locked in the munitions store.”

Hux and I exchanged a horrified glance. The prisoners were in the munitions store – and the device Dobar held was presumably a detonator. The ‘cataclysmic accident’ would be anything but accidental.

“Do you think there’s a back door?” I whispered to Hux.

“Don’t even think of going anywhere near it,” he hissed back.

“Expand on your offer,” said General Organa. “What do you want in exchange?”

“I want your son,” he said, gloating over the fist-clenched figure of Kylo. “And I want the girl. Give them to me, and I will release your people.” It was then that his eye roved sideways and landed on us. “Oh, and I want Hux too.”

_No, no, no._

“You can’t turn me back,” said Kylo, looking over his shoulder at us. “You may as well kill me, if that’s want you plan to do. I won’t work for you again.”

“These are my terms,” said Snoke implacably. “You, the girl, and Hux, or the prisoners face a fiery death. At least it will be quick.” His vile chuckle infected the air again.

“You really think you can turn Rey?” Kylo sounded a little desperate now, his deep voice rising in register.

“I don’t much care if you don’t take my side,” said Snoke. “I just don’t want any of you on _theirs_. I want you where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Hostages,” said Kylo.

“If you like. I don’t think I’d get a very good price for Hux, though, do you?” His laughter boomed out across the concourse, turning my stomach. “No, I’d think of it more as insurance. The Republic will do what I say if it will protect their precious heroes. Not that Hux is one of those. I will simply enjoy tormenting him. So what’s your reply, General? Three lives in return for three hundred. It’s a very good deal.”

Hux stepped forward.

“If each of us represents one hundred lives, you can take me.”

“Noooo!” I screamed. “Don’t do this.”

“Somebody cares about you, Hux,” said Snoke. “I really thought you’d be unlamented, but the galaxy is full of surprises.”

“Let one hundred go, and I will give myself up,” said Hux. I was clinging to his arm, shaking it in spite of his fractured ribs, but he hardly seemed aware of the pain, or my anguish.

“You can’t, you can’t do this,” I raved. He managed to extricate himself from my grasp and turned sharply to me, grabbing hold of both my wrists.

“I can, and I have to,” he said, his eyes blazing. “However this ends, there is no future for me. I have ended too many lives, and my crimes will never be forgotten or forgiven. And rightly so. But I still have this chance to do something that will make my son proud to have had me as his father.”

“Wil, you can’t…you can’t leave us. You can’t leave me. I can’t let you go.”

“I knew from the start this would end in my death,” he said, more gently. “This way, my death will not have been in vain.”

I flung myself against his poor cracked chest and held him tight, vowing that my hold on him would never be broken.

“I’ll go with you,” I sobbed.

“No, Marillia. Our son needs you.”

“We both need _you_.”

He held me for a while, letting me pour my grief into him. Nobody else spoke, for which I was grateful.

Eventually, he took my face in both his hands and made my tear-dazed eyes meet his.

“Never forget, my darling, that you did what nobody else could have done. You made me love. You made me a better man. Perhaps one day I might have been good enough for you.”

“You are, you are, you’ve made me a better person too, I love you, you can’t go, I’ll die without you…”

He bent and kissed the flying words out of my mouth.

“I love you. Be happy,” he whispered.

He let go of me and walked towards Snoke.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to put you all through the wringer with that last chapter. This one should be a little bit easier on the feels.

I followed him across the concourse, blind with tears, making incoherent threats and promises, until we reached the group of Resistance personnel and Kylo Ren caught hold of me, preventing me from pursuing Hux any further.

I struggled desperately, my panic rising with every inch of the distance growing between us, but Kylo was far too strong for me and I gave up, collapsing limply into his side, barely able to watch, yet unable to tear my eyes from the one man I had ever loved, or ever would, leaving me forever.

“Don’t let him do this,” I begged. “Make him come back.”

Kylo’s only reply was to tighten his arm around me.

My vision went grey and I tried to force my brain to slow everything down, to give me the longest time with him it could. I couldn’t cope with the idea that this was the last I might see of him. My mind would never be ready to say goodbye.

Hux was a few yards from the egregiously grinning Snoke when there was a burst of gunfire from somewhere above and behind us.

We all wheeled around to see – oh glory! – Phasma, standing on top of a flight hangar, pointing a machine gun at the crowd of ex-Order soldiers. The first one she had taken out was Dobar, but now she let rip at the others, bullets hailing down on them before they could think to shoot back.

“They’re safe,” I screamed. “The prisoners are safe, you can come back!”

Hux turned his head and took a step back. Snoke roared with anger, but his roar was eclipsed by the sudden intense drone of an X-wing fighter. Before we had even fully registered what Phasma was doing, the fighter swooped low over Snoke and shot four jets of high intensity explosives right between his eyes.

He burst into an inferno of flame, the force of the explosion throwing Hux back through the air until he landed, more or less at my feet.

I dropped to my knees beside him. He had been knocked unconscious, again. Amid the furore of exhilaration and excitement, only Kylo joined me by his side.

“If he dies now, after all this, I _swear_...”

“Let’s get him to med bay,” said Kylo, lifting him with a gentleness I would never have thought he had in him, and walking off with me across the concourse.

Looking over my shoulder, I saw Rey sit bolt upright on the gurney, rub the back of her head and demand, “What the _hell’s_ going on here?”, only to have General Organa fling her arms around her and kiss her querulous face all over.

“Does he have a pulse? Is his heart beating? Do you think he’s OK? Is he OK? He’s been through so much…”

“Take it easy, Marillia,” said Kylo. “The headless chicken act isn’t going to help him.”

“I know, I know. Shit. Oh lord. I could kiss Phasma, though, couldn’t you?”

Kylo smirked. “Silly question,” he said.

“Aha, right. Well, give her one from me, won’t you? A kiss! I meant a kiss! Obviously. Is he all right? Does he feel cold? Can I just feel his forehead? Does he seem stiff to you?”

In the distance, I could see the prisoners pouring out of the munitions store. Just ahead of us, the X-wing touched down and its pilot climbed out, removing his helmet to reveal tousled black hair.

“There’s our other hero of the hour,” said Kylo. “We seem to have quite a few.”

“He’s definitely a big favourite of mine,” I said. “Whoever he is.”

Finn came pelting past us at a pace fit to break galactic land speed records. He flung himself at the pilot and the pair were still kissing passionately as we passed them.

“Poe Dameron,” said Kylo. “He never shoots without scoring.”

We reached the med bay long before any staff. Hux took up residence on the same cot while Kylo and I did our amateur best to check him over. His face was blackened by the blast and he had some cuts and grazes from the shrapnel, but nothing was embedded in him, and all my fingers were crossed that an amalgam of shock and pain from his original injuries were his only real issues.

The medic bustled in a few moments later and began running diagnostic checks.

I collapsed into the bedside chair and let out the poisonous mix of emotions that had been frothing up in me ever since we’d arrived here.

“Is she all right?” The tight-lipped medic asked Kylo as she busied herself with hand-scanners and vital sign detectors. “Who is she? Every time I see her she’s got a new patient for me.”

“I think this will be the last one,” said Kylo.

“Good. Because I’m anticipating a bit of a rush in here.”

“Are you?”

“Gunshot wounds,” she said grimly.

I looked up.

“You’re going to put the ex-Order people in here? The ones that survived the shooting?” I didn’t like the sound of Hux sharing a room with his vengeful ex-staff.

“No,” she said. “They’ll be put in the gymnasium, with an armed guard on the door. But I’ll have to go and see to them.” She put down her scanners. “Well, this gentleman appears to be pretty close to indestructible. Nothing wrong with him that a bit of salve and a painkiller won’t put right.”

I burst into hysterical cry-laughing. Kylo dithered for a moment before pulling me out of the chair and giving me a hug.

“It’s all OK now,” he soothed. “Come on. Calm down.”

I tried but my breath was heaving and jerking about all over the place.

“I mean, seriously,” said Kylo, edgy now. “Calm. Down.” He put the palm of his hand on the crown of my head and suddenly my chest expanded and a beautiful breath of peace circulated around my body.

“Ahhh,” I sighed, sinking back into the chair.

“Why don’t you try and get some sleep?” Kylo suggested, adjusting the chair until it reclined and dumping a blanket on top of me. “You haven’t had a wink in over twenty four hours.”

“Neither have you,” I pointed out. The blissful calm was embedding itself deep within my bones. I let the profound sense of everything-being-allright ebb and flow through my bloodstream.

“I just need to grab a drink and a blonde, and I’ll be straight under the covers,” he said with a wink.

“A blonde?” I said, smiling beatifically, idiotically. “Not a brunette?”

“Ach, Rey’s more like a sister to me really,” he said. “Also, she’d probably force-choke me if I tried anything with her right now.”

“Not romantic,” I said, unable to wipe the cheesy grin off my face.

He shook his head, then bent and awkwardly ruffled my hair. “You did good, kid,” he said, before turning and leaving the room.

Kylo’s advice about trying to grab some sleep had been good, but I found it impossible to follow. Underneath my forced placidity, adrenaline still surged around my nervous system. My synapses were firing on all cylinders. Besides, I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to look at Hux, just drink in his face, for every second of every minute of every hour, forevermore.

He was going to live. He was going to be OK. Nothing else existed in the universe but this knowledge.

I watched him fixedly, dimly aware of the medic and her staff bustling around, attending to other injuries and complaints. The low buzz of med bay business was often interrupted by exclamations and laughter, people popping their heads around the door to share the exhilaration of the morning’s events. Some of them were curious about Hux, but they didn’t go so far as to say so, or to talk to me.

I didn’t care what they thought. I only cared about the muscle in Hux’s jaw that twitched now and again, and the gentle pulsing of the digital display on the vital signs monitor. Blood pressure: low but rising. Pulse: faint but strengthening. Temperature: normal.

I put my hand on his scorched, dirty cheek and held it there, imagining that he could feel it in his dream and would know I was with him.

“Somebody loves him.”

The voice came from the doorway. General Leia Organa – now out of her bathrobe and fully dressed – stood watching me with a wry smile on her face.

She came into the room and stood over the cot, looking down at Hux.

“So, I don’t know your name,” she said softly.

“Marillia. Marillia Rome.”

“Ah, I think Ben mentioned you earlier.” She paused. “What is it that you see in him? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Strength, courage, intelligence, loyalty,” I said. “And he loves me.” I caught her eye. “He happened to be born on the wrong side, and had toxic influences fed to him along with his mother’s milk. I’m not saying he isn’t responsible for the things he’s done – of course he is – but he’s a man who’s just as capable of great good as he is of great evil. At least, he is now. I swear to you.”

Organa was silent for a few moments. “Apart from the bit about being born on the wrong side, you could be talking about Ben,” she said.

I smiled. “Well, they’re very different personalities,” I said. “But essentially…”

“Yeah.” She smiled back. “Listen, Marillia. What he did out there was…pretty special. For people he’d never met and would have killed without a second thought not so long ago. I know that people change…hell, I know that better than most. The man I saw today wasn’t the man who unleashed that apocalypse on the Hosnian System. But I don’t know…this isn’t easy. You can appreciate my difficulty.”

I swallowed, nodding. “I know,” I whispered.

“Let me think about it.” She took one of my hands and squeezed it warmly. “OK?”

“OK.”

My stomach killed the mood with a sudden and violent rumble.

“Oh my,” said Organa, laughing. “Look, there’s a bit of a party going on in the canteen. Why don’t you go and get yourself something to eat and drink? I’ll keep an eye on this one for you.”

I hesitated.

“I don’t want to leave him.”

“I understand that, but you need to eat. Go on. Canteen’s just across the tarmac, first floor down. Just follow the crazy drunken singing.”

“What if…you won’t…he will still be here, won’t he? When I come back?” I stood, gripping the blanket, while fear gripped me.

“He’ll still be here,” said Organa firmly. “You have my word.”

“While you think about Hux’s future,” I said, scrabbling in my backpack. “Here’s a photograph for you to look it. It’s our son. He’s five years old. His name’s Kirin.”

I handed the picture to Organa, who smiled at it and chuckled.

“Oh boy,” she said. “Now you bring out the big guns. Well played, Marillia Rome. I’ll take it into consideration. Now go and eat.”

The canteen, when I found it, was in uproar. People were dancing and kissing all over the place. I was the only person at the food counter, and I stuck to a sober caffa as my beverage. I sat at an empty table and watched everyone working off their feelings after the intense morning they’d had.

“Who even knew Snoke was still alive?” A very fast-talking Finn stood in the middle of a small group, expounding. “I mean, you’d think you’d know him when you saw him, right? Where the hell was he all this time? In the airing cupboard? Where?”

“He was in me.” Rey joined the group, swigging from a hip flask as they all gawped at her.

“Say what?” said Finn.

“He found a way to, I dunno, join with me and hide inside my body. Super creepy. I’d been feeling weird for a while, but I thought it was some kind of food intolerance.”

“Seriously?” Poe Dameron laughed heartily. “You’ve had Snoke inside you all this time? And nobody realised?”

“I know; it’s a worry.” Rey grimaced and allowed herself to be crushed in the pilot’s embrace.

“Well, I’m glad he’s out of you,” said Poe.

“What I want to know,” said a third man, “is who’s the hot blonde with the mega-blaster? Did you _see_ her?” He puffed out an appreciative breath of air.

“Sorry, but I think Organa Junior jumped _that_ particular queue,” said Poe, nodding to a corner of the room, where Kylo and Phasma stood locked in a tonsil-tickling snog.

They burst into a round of clapping and wolf-whistling, but I noticed that Rey’s smile turned wistful after a few seconds and she was the first to look away.

“Did I hear right?” she said, eager to change the subject. “Is General Hux on the base?”

I looked sharply down at my eggs, the tips of my ears burning.

“He sure is,” said Finn. “Man, I’d like some face to face time with that bastard. He owes me a childhood.”

“I heard he offered to sacrifice himself for you guys,” said Poe. “Snoke wanted him in exchange for your lives. General Organa told me.”

“Least he could do,” sniffed Finn. “Shame you couldn’t have taken him out at the same time as Snoke.”

“Even I can’t aim at two targets at once,” said Poe. “But I’m working on it.”

I couldn’t eat any more of the eggs. I took my half-drunk cup of caffa and hurried away, back to the med bay. My joy at Hux being alive was tarnished around the edges now by the knowledge that everybody wanted him dead. Suddenly the thought of our future shoved itself back into the top slot of my consciousness, and it was by no means a bright one.

When I returned, Leia Organa was in the recliner, chatting idly to one of the nurses.

“Has he woken up?” I asked, though I could see his eyes were closed.

“Not yet,” said Organa, rising from the chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and oversee the aftermath of this drama. I’ll speak to you later, Marillia.”

“Goodbye.”

I turned once more to Hux. The nurse had managed to cut off his tunic and undershirt and was bathing and dressing his wounds. There were lots of them.

I don’t know how long I spent gazing, but I was practically in a trance by the time the next visitor appeared.

This time it was a very pink-cheeked and bright-eyed Phasma.

“How is he?” she asked, advancing across the room.

“They think he’ll be fine,” I said. “Anyway, how are _you_? You were _amazing_ out there! What happened?”

“Oh, it was nothing,” said Phasma. “Just happened to be looking for Kylo and bumped into this irritating pilot person who demanded to know who I was. We got into a row, both of us forgetting what we were supposed to be doing, until we looked out of the doorway and noticed Snoke on the scene. We promptly stopped arguing, made a plan for me to shoot from the roof while he used an X-wing to take out Snoke, and there you have it. Still don’t know the annoying arsehole’s name, but he’s a great shot, whoever he is.”

“Poe Dameron,” I said, smiling.

“Oh lord, seriously? The one my trooper helped to spring from _Finalizer_? Well, it’s a small galaxy.”

“And now you’re fighting on the same side. Funny how things turn out,” I said. “Speaking of which…you and a certain Mr Kylo Ren…”

Her pink cheeks flamed red.

“That reminds me. I can’t stay. I’ve got him tied to the bed. I’ll see you later.”

At least somebody was getting her heart’s desire, I thought, watching the nurse work on removing Hux’s lower garments in order to continue the first aid. I tried to envisage a day when he would be well again and we would be together and safe.

The image wouldn’t come.

The effort defeated me and I lapsed at last into sleep.

I sank underneath, into a confusing place of explosions and gunfire, of torn flesh and shocked death masks. I was face down on the ground while burning detritus fell on me, burning holes in my skin, then there was a hand tugging me, a voice in my ear.

“Marillia. Marillia. Come to me.”

Indescribable joy. The voice was his. I picked myself up and ran to him. He was wearing his First Order uniform and he looked exactly the way he did when my first sight of him knocked me for six. We were on Starkiller, or we were outside or above it, in the stars, the way they shone through his transparent ceiling. We were lying on his bed again, underneath those constellations. I looked for the Hosnian System; it was there. It was still there. I could save it. I could save him. It wasn’t too late…

“Marillia.”

My whole body jerked and my eyes snapped open.

“What is it? What’s happened?” I breathed.

On the bed, Hux was sitting up, propped on three pillows, grey faced and red eyed but undeniably awake. Alive.

 

 

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

“Oh.” The sight of him undid me. I was more undone than done these days; a piece of torn rag, barely keeping my last few stitches together.

“Pleased to see me then,” he said dryly, with a painful attempt at a smile.

“Oh,” I said – sobbed, really – again. I needed Kylo’s magic hand of calm, but he’d be working his tricks on Phasma right now.

The effort required to pull myself together was heroic, but I had heroes all around me from whom to draw inspiration, and perhaps that helped. I wrestled my breath under control and smoothed my crumpled face.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I whispered. My throat was twisted in knots, mangling my voice as it came out, but I battled the tears and won.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “If I could have spared you that, I would have done. I hope you understand why I had to do it.”

“It’s like the Capulon Paradox,” I said, after a pause to kick some more rising emotions to the ground. Honestly, they were like weeds. You cut them down, they grew back. “You can understand it, but you’ll never like it.”

“What happened anyway?” he said. “Why am I back here?”

“Nobody’s spoken to you? Do they know you’re awake?” I jerked my head towards the medic station, which was currently empty, all personnel being occupied elsewhere, probably with the surviving ex-Order squad.

“There’s nobody around but an orderly,” said Hux. “I didn’t attract his attention. I wanted to watch you sleep in peace. Waking up and seeing you there… I thought I was dead and you’d come with me to the hereafter.”

“Do you believe in a hereafter?”

“Not really,” he said with a suppressed sigh. “I try not to think about it, to be honest. But I’m not there, and I’m not dead either, for reasons that are still to be explained.”

“Oh, yes,” I said, his hint nudging me out of my rapturous trance. All I wanted to do was absorb his presence, his continuing existence. “Some pilot flew over in an X-wing and bombed Snoke. You were knocked out by the blast. The threat from the Order is over. Phasma shot the rest of them.”

“Really? So we’re all safe? The galaxy, I mean.”

I nodded. “It seems so. I know they had other people dotted around the place, but the Force-masking won’t work any more, so they’re easy to identify now. Without Snoke, they don’t have a plan.”

With an exhalation of relief, Hux let his head fall back against the pillows.

“That’s good,” he said softly. “That’s…at least, that’s something.”

“At least?” I chewed at my lip. The unmixed joy I craved was still absent from his tone.

“My gesture, in the end, was meaningless,” he said.

“But the part you played in ridding the galaxy of Snoke was essential,” I reminded him. “The vital information was in your memory, and you chose to fight to have it restored. When you broke out of prison, you could have disappeared into another galaxy, lived a free life. You didn’t. It’s important that people know that – that _you_ know it.”

“All the same,” he said. “It doesn’t cancel everything out.”

I reached for his dusty fingers. They twitched in my hand.

“I’ve spoken to General Organa,” I said. “She promised she’d think carefully about your future.”

“She did?” He smiled and let his fingers relax a little, twining around mine. “Perhaps you’ll be able to visit me now and again. With Kirin. Although…” His face fell again. “It’s not what I want for him. Best keep him away. Perhaps we could comm…I don’t know…”

I wasn’t ready to think about Hux going back to prison. I’d never be ready to think about that.

“Don’t talk about that,” I said. “Don’t even mention it, until General Organa has had time to think. Don’t let a shadow fall on this time we have together. We might never have it again.”

“You could just leave.” The voice was deep and it came from the open doorway. Kylo Ren stepped into the room, shutting us in together. “Quietly. Go somewhere out of radar range. Nobody need ever know.”

He came to stand at the foot of Hux’s bed. There were faint pink marks around his wrists.

“And look over my shoulder forever?” said Hux.

“Think about it though,” I urged, but he shook his head.

“Wherever we can go that’s reachable from here, we can never escape what I’ve done,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll be off the official radar, but every neighbouring galaxy, every system contains people who were affected by what happened to the Hosnian System. One day it would catch up with me. And I’d always be waiting for that day.”

“It’s your call,” said Kylo. “But if you want my help to get you out of here, you only need to ask.”

Hux held his eyes, fascinated by this proposition.

“I’m grateful to you,” he said. “How times have changed.”

“It’s not for you,” said Kylo abruptly. “It’s for _her._ ” He jabbed his thumb at me.

Hux laughed, wincing and putting a hand over his damaged ribs.

“Well, thank goodness for that. I was beginning to think I’d been blasted into a parallel universe.”

The door swished open, admitting General Organa.

“Ah, Ben,” she said. “I had a feeling I’d find you in here.”

“What do you want? I’ve cleaned my room.” He was teasing, but there was a hint of something in his tone that made me very glad I hadn’t been around to witness his teenage years.

“And now you need to clean your personal life,” she said. “Rey’s looking for you. She thinks her Force ability might have been weakened by her ordeal. She needs your advice.”

“OK,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

Once he had left, Leia Organa pulled up a chair beside Hux’s bed.

“You’ve regained consciousness,” she said, nodding at him. “I hear you’re on course to make a full recovery.”

“I haven’t spoken with any medics as yet,” said Hux. “But so I gather.”

“The officers responsible for your earlier injuries have been disciplined,” she said. “They’re all on shit shovelling duty until further notice.”

“Well, they had their reasons,” he muttered.

“That’s no excuse,” said Leia firmly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have stood for it, and neither will I.”

“I won’t deny I ran a tight ship,” said Hux with the ghost of a smile.

“So tight it squeaked,” I agreed.

“Peace time – or what we thought was peace time – has lulled us,” said Leia. “Some aspects have been allowed to slide. It’s regrettable, but it won’t be happening again.”

Hux made no response to this, except to shut his eyes. He opened them again when Leia continued, in an undertone this time.

“Thank you for what you did out there. What you offered. The sacrifice you were prepared to make.”

“It amounted to nothing in the end,” he said.

“You weren’t to know that.”

“Nothing I can do will make any difference,” he replied flatly. “Nothing I can do will bring back the Hosnian System.”

“I know that,” said Leia. “But the events of today have saved a far greater number of lives, potentially. And you were pivotal in those events. The scales of justice aren’t as heavily weighted against you as they were – nowhere near as heavily weighted.”

“To those who lost people in the Hosnian System they are, and always will be,” said Hux.

“Yes. And that’s my dilemma.”

“You can’t send him back to prison,” I blurted.

“Marillia,” whispered Hux, and if a whisper could be stern, this one was. “Let the General speak.”

Leia looked at both of us in turn. “Right now, I want nothing more than to send the pair of you off to collect your boy and make a new life for yourselves. But if I do that, I face a revolt by those who were affected by the Hosnian System.”

“They would find me in the end,” said Hux. “I know that.”

Leia looked around to make sure nobody had crept in after her and leant closer, lowering her voice.

“That’s why I thought you could die.”

“What?” My voice came out shrilly, but Hux didn’t speak. He seemed to know what she meant as soon as the words were spoken.

“Who knows I survived the explosion?” he asked.

“Us. Ben. Your crack shot friend. A handful of medics. And that’s it.”

“And no comms have gone out from here about me?”

“Not a word,” promised Leia. “I’ve embargoed all mention of you.”

“So, what do you have in mind?”

A clearer picture was beginning to emerge from this cryptic conversation. I held my fists clenched, barely daring to breathe.

“I have a summer retreat, up in the hills of Naboo,” she said. “We used to spend a lot of time up there when Ben was a kid but after…things changed, I didn’t really have the heart to go back. It’s been lying empty for twenty years. It’s a lovely spot, though, and very remote. Very secure too.”

“Are you saying…” I began, my voice cracking a little.

“I’m saying it’s a great place to raise a family,” she said. “If you don’t mind the lack of social life. Of course, for you, Hux, it isn’t freedom. It’s house arrest. You can’t ever leave the compound, and you have to make very sure nobody sees you, apart from the small handful of people who know you’re still alive.”

He gazed at her, his cheekbones twitching, all kinds of calculations whizzing behind his eyes.

“What about Marillia? And Kirin?” he said. “I can’t wall them up alive in some mountain eyrie.”

“I don’t mind,” I said quickly, but Leia spoke over me.

“We can make new identities for them. They will be free to go where they please – and when I say it’s remote, I’m exaggerating slightly. There’s a settlement five miles away in the valley. It won’t be a perfect life, and the need for secrecy will challenge you, but surely it has to be better than going back to prison.”

“Oh yes,” I said. My eyes dazzled, Hux’s face blurring in front of them. In my imagination, a little tableau played out, of Hux and I breakfasting together on a sun-warmed terrace while Kirin chased a pet dog around a lawn. Such a simple ambition as mere togetherness had been out of reach for us for so long. Could it really be achieved?

“It’s better than Max One Point One,” conceded Hux. “And I would have been prepared to accept even that, with enhanced visiting privileges. What you offer is a very different proposition. I have my concerns about the effect on my son of living such a cloistered life, but while he is young… Well, we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Yes,” I said vehemently. “Yes, we have time to think. And space. Please, let’s do this. Don’t throw away this chance for us.”

He looked at me and a weary smile flickered across his lips.

“Well, that seals it,” he said. “If it will make you happy, we’ll do it. You deserve to be happy, after all I’ve put you through.”

Leia nodded at him. “You should keep hold of her.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he replied.

Leia slapped her palms down on her thighs. “That’s settled, then. We’ll move you into a private room until you’re well enough to travel. In the meantime, Marillia, perhaps it’s best if you leave the base for a while. If you stay, people will ask questions and we don’t want to risk it getting out that Hux is still alive. I’ve got my work cut out trying to keep Ben and his new squeeze quiet.”

“Oh, but I can’t leave…” I objected.

“She’s right,” said Hux. “Go to Kirin. Wait until the General sends for you. It won’t be long – a few days, that’s all.”

“But we’ve only just…you’ve only just…” My lower lip was trembling, just like Kirin’s when life wasn’t going his way.

“It’s a few days,” said Hux softly, brushing my cheek with his scorch-marked knuckles. “Then we have the rest of our lives together.”

“Is it really true?” I looked at him and Leia in turn.

Leia’s eyes crinkled up at the corners.

“It’s really true,” she said. “And I order you to be happy, Marillia Rome.”

*

Ben, as I had now learned to call him, flew me to Zyron in his fancy-pants racing pod.

“So, you’re going to be living at Alderaan Heights,” he said, once he’d finished showing off his stunt moves, and my stomach had settled.

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Yeah. Named after Ma’s home planet. Got blown up by the Empire.” His hand wavered dangerously over the blaster mechanism, as if he meant to give me a practical demonstration.

“Oh, I know that,” I said hurriedly. “Did it in Galactic Civics. You used to spend your summers there, she said?”

“Every year. I wouldn’t mind going back to take a look at the old place. I used to love the pool – it has a view right out over the valley.”

I sighed happily. “I can’t believe all this. Is it real? Am I dreaming?”

“Want me to pinch you?”

“That’s OK. You’ll have to come and visit.”

Ben’s lip curled upwards. “Think you might need to clear that one with the man.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine with it. It was Snoke that played you off against each other all the time, and you just fell for his divide-and-rule bullshit.”

Ben blinked. “Really? Is that what you think was happening?”

“Well, wasn’t it? And now Snoke’s gone, there’s nothing to stop you being friends.”

He thought about this. “Maybe you’re right. Is that what Hux believes?”

“He hasn’t said so, but I think he knows it, deep down.”

“Well, pool party at yours it is, then,” said Ben. “I’ll add it to my agenda.”

“Plus ones welcome,” I said archly.

He laughed, flushing slightly.

“I bet Phasma looks like detonite in a bikini,” I continued.

“Kriiiif, yeah,” he moaned. “OK, Zyron coming into range. I’m commencing the descent.”

*

Ben walked me to Tessia’s apartment, then left me at the door with a hug and a promise to keep in touch.

The door was answered by Timonn, Tessia’s medic husband. His lips parted in surprise and he looked around the apartment block lobby cautiously before drawing me inside.

“How did you get here? Who saw you?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, I should have commed…”

“That’s no good. All our systems are bugged. As you ought to know.”

“Shit, Timonn, I’m really sorry about all this. But everything’s OK now. It’s all over. They’ll have stopped watching you now.”

“I’ll believe that if I still have an intact front door tonight,” he said grimly.

“You will, I promise. Where’s Kirin? Where’s Tessia?”

“Give me some kind of proof that we’re all safe now, and I’ll tell you – but not until then.”

So I sat down with Timonn and told him the whole story, backed up by a brief comm message from General Organa herself. Only then did he relax and let out a huge exhalation of relief.

“Tessia and Kirin are at the hospital. Hiding out in the bomb shelter,” he told me. “We just had near constant harassment from the authorities, right from the first day he came here. Before, actually. As soon as you went AWOL, we were getting calls, messages, keyloggers on our systems…at home and at work.”

“I’m so sorry. I hoped they might leave you alone… I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you. Nobody was ever more grateful.”

“Well, let’s say you owe us,” said Timonn gravely, but then his expression lifted. “Anyway, it’s good to hear that we aren’t about to get crushed under the boot heels of the Second Order, so I guess it was worth it. I knew when I married her that Tessia had an interesting past… but boy, has it come home to me this past few weeks.”

“Can we go to the hospital?” I asked. “Can I see Kirin now?”

“Sure, of course. I guess it doesn’t matter if we’re followed now.”

“General Organa’s called all the surveillance off,” I said. “You’re in the clear.”

The hospital bomb shelter was a long way under the ground, and the elevator seemed to descend for an age.

“Have they been down here all this time?” I asked Timonn.

“Two weeks,” he said. “That’s how long it’s been.”

Was he for real? It had been _two weeks_ since I dropped Kirin here and set off on my quest? Entire geological eras seemed to have passed in that time.

“And they’ve been OK?” I said. “Kirin’s been OK?”

“It’s been an adventure for him,” said Timonn. “Though I have to say, it’s starting to get a little old now.”

The elevator jolted to a stop. Timonn unlocked a series of doors, leading into a cavernous space filled with row upon row of beds and medical equipment. A long way away, towards the end of the room, two figures sat upon a cot, looking at a datapad.

They both looked up, seeing Timonn at first but not me, lurking behind his shoulder.

“I’ve brought you a visitor,” said Timonn, then he stood aside.

I had a vision of Kirin leaping up and running towards me, yelling my name and flinging himself into my arms, but in fact all he did was look up from the datapad and say, “You came back.”

“Of course I did,” I said, and suddenly it was me doing the running. “You knew I would.”

He got up and allowed himself to be bear-hugged, in the manner of an emperor indulging a favoured servant. It had to be in the genes.

“Have you seen this?” he said, enthusiastic now, handing me an old diagnostic tool that I could barely see through my tear haze. “Timonn showed me how to use it. Look, I can tell you if you’re ill just by pressing this button. If you’re bleeding inside, the light goes red. There. You aren’t bleeding inside.”

“That’s good news,” I said, laughing and drying my eyes on my sleeve. “I’ve got some news for you too.” I caught Tessia’s eye as we embraced; it widened. “But it can wait until we get out of here. You must have been bored and lonely in here all this time.”

“Not really,” said Kirin. “There’s so much hospital stuff to play with. And I don’t really like other people anyway. Except you and auntie Tessia and Timonn.”

“Chip off the old block,” I said. “Let’s go out and get some ice-cream.”

“Yeah!” He threw down the diagnostic device and leapt up, grabbing my hand, curling his tiny pale fingers with mine.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Downhill all the way from here. And by 'downhill' I mean loads of fluff and smut. Yay!


	20. Chapter 20

The Zyron Institute Hospital had its own launch pad, and that was where Kirin and I were picked up, on the day of our journey to Naboo.

We were collected, to my surprise, by Phasma in her souped-up personnel carrier. Tessia, entwined in a goodbye hug with me and Kirin, gasped, and we broke apart, curious to see what had caused her expression of shock.

“Well, if it isn’t my former…ahem.” Phasma coughed, noticing the presence of Timonn and perhaps thinking better of referring to their erstwhile professional relationship. “How marvellous to see you. You’re looking very well.”

“Thanks. So are you.”

What followed couldn’t be described as an awkward silence, due to the deafening background throb of the spacecraft’s engines, but it was awkward nonetheless.

Tessia’s reaction to my plans for the future had been lukewarm. She had brought up every possible objection, from a lack of playmates for Kirin to Hux’s controlling personality. I’d acknowledged them all, but found none of them compelling enough to change my mind. Frankly, nothing in the universe had that power now.

“You will come and visit?” she said, making a sudden lunge for my hand as I picked up my luggage ready to stow it on board.

“Of course. All the time.”

“Just because _he’s_ a prisoner doesn’t mean you have to be.”

“I know that, Tess. You’ll be sick of the sight of us - begging us to leave you alone. I promise.”

She smiled shakily, and that was when I knew I had to go. If she started, she’d set me off, and that wasn’t how I wanted Kirin to experience the first day of his new life. So I took his hand and followed Phasma across the launch pad, never looking back at Tessia and Timonn until we reached the steps and were able to wave from a safe distance. If there were tears on their cheeks, we couldn’t see them now.

“Ready?” I said to Kirin, but he was already in the cockpit with Phasma, being guided through the instrument panel. I sat and watched them, feeling as if the anti-gravity had already kicked in. I was in between lives now, floating from the old to the new.

A few nights earlier, I had broken the news to Kirin.

“Looks like we’re moving again.”

“Not again! I hate moving. I hate packing all my stuff.”

“So do I, but we don’t have to pack much this time. And it’s the very last time. With luck, we’ll never have to move again.”

“What if it’s a horrible place, like that noisy apartment block when I was small?”

“It’s not a horrible place. It’s very beautiful. And there’s a pool.” I paused, my resolve wavering. How did I tell him the rest of my news? Kirin’s excitement at having his own pool bought me time to make sure I was calm and gentle when I spoke next.

“Kirin, there’s something else I have to tell you.”

“What? Is there a bouncepad too?”

“Not about the new house. About somebody… Kirin, have you ever noticed that some children have fathers?”

“Of course,” he said, wrinkling his nose at my stupidity. “It’s obvious. I see them all over the place.”

“Have you ever wondered why you don’t?”

He thought about this. “Not really. It’s just that way. Some kids do and some don’t.”

“Yes. I thought you didn’t have one…but it turned out…” I grabbed Kirin’s hand, making sure his attention didn’t wander, as it so often did. “It turned out that he was just lost.”

“Lost? You mean I had a dad stuck somewhere. Like, in a maze?”

“In the dark,” I said. “In a very dark place. He couldn’t find the way out.”

“In space? Space is dark. Why is space so dark, mummy?”

“That’s a big question, do you mind if I answer it another time? To go back to where your dad was lost, then, yes, space. He was lost in space. But now he’s found his way out, and…well…he wants to see you. And he wants us to be together, because we’re a family.”

“We’re already a family. You and me.” Kirin’s eyes darkened.

I took a breath. I hadn’t expected this to be easy.

“You always say it doesn’t matter that I’ve only got you, because you have all the love in the universe for me,” he objected.

“Yes, and I still have. But now you can have two universes worth of love. And you’re always telling me that two good things are better than one.”

He nodded sagely. “That’s true. I said that at the ice-cream shop the other day, and you let me have two ice-creams.”

“Yes, I’m not going to make a habit of that, though,” I cautioned him. “It was a special occasion. So, do you think it might be OK to have two parents instead of one?”

“It might be,” he said. “Is he nice?”

As complex questions went, this rivalled the one about the darkness of space. On the whole, I was probably on safer terrain with astrophysics.

“I think he is,” I said.

Kirin shrugged. “Guess he might be OK then.”

And that was that. I was fascinated, as always, by Kirin’s propensity to take huge life events in his stride, while trivial details would dismay and enrage him. At his age, all change had been difficult for me; this nomadic and ever-shifting lifestyle we’d led would have reduced me to nervous wreckage. But Kirin was stoic, pragmatic. More traits inherited from his father. I had a feeling they would get on.

And now the proof was only a few hours away.

“Are you staying on at D’Qar then?” I asked Phasma, once she’d got us in amongst the stars.

“Seems so,” she said. “Organa’s been good to me. Offered me a job knocking her new recruits into shape. And dear lord, do they need it!”

I grinned, imagining the rude awakening Leia’s resistance rookies would be getting.

“And Kylo? I mean, Ben. We have to call him Ben now. Do _you_ call him Ben?”

“I try to, though to be honest, I was in the habit of calling him Lord Ren, which is proving very difficult to break. He likes the ‘lord’ bit, mind you. Thinks I should keep that.”

“I bet he does. So, is it a serious thing, then? You and him?”

Phasma shook her head, smiling. “Who knows? It’s good fun, whatever it is. I’d like it to be more, but we’ll have to wait and see.”

“What are his plans? Has he given up the whole playboy gambler thing now?”

“Oh yes, I wasn’t having that. He’s thinking seriously about his future now. Considering starting a training school for young Force-sensitives.”

“Jedi camp?”

“Effectively. It’s nice to see him with a purpose. He’s really quite enthusiastic about it. I had no idea he could be so…happy.”

“This Jedi school…will Rey be involved?” I asked, bracing myself for a storm.

“She’s on board, yes,” said Phasma.

“And…you’re all right with that?”

“Absolutely,” she said, nodding firmly. “It turns out she’s heavily involved elsewhere.”

“Oh, she has a boyfriend?”

“She has _two_ boyfriends. Finn and Poe.”

“Busy girl.” _Lucky girl_ _too_ , I thought. _Two fine specimens of manhood there._

“I don’t think her eye will have time to rove over to Ben,” said Phasma with a chuckle. “We’ve talked, and she admitted she did have a brief crush on him, when he first left the Dark Side, but she’s over it. Described him as ‘too high maintenance’ for her.”

“But not for you?” I smiled.

“Oh, I don’t stand for any nonsense,” said Phasma. “He knows that.”

“You’ll be good for him.”

“And you’ll be good for Hux.”

“How has he been? Is he up and about now?”

“Oh yes, much better physically. Snapping everybody’s heads off though. He’s bored. Apart from the medics, only me, Ben and the General are allowed to see him. And he misses you _desperately_.”

“What? He told you that?”

“He didn’t have to. It’s blindingly obvious.” She took her hand off the accelerator and gave mine a quick squeeze. “He’s been pestering the poor benighted medics to declare him fit to leave every hour of every day. They won’t be sorry to see the back of him.”

I had stars in my eyes. Literally. There was nothing else to see through the viewscreen. And because I was going to Hux, who had missed me and with whom I couldn’t wait to reunite.

Beside me, Kirin had nodded off; the excitement of moving to Naboo to a house with a pool had kept him up all night, packing and unpacking and repacking his tiny backpack.

The jump to hyperspace woke him up, and very soon we were speeding towards Naboo, its lush greens and blues distinguishing it from its more arid neighbours.

“It’s like our planet,” said Kirin. “It’s like Kusa B.”

“It has a similar climate,” I said. “Temperate. A kind planet.”

“Does it have waterfalls, like Zahna?”

“You know, I think it does. We’ll go and find some one day, if you like.”

Hux wouldn’t be able to come with us. But I’d run a simul-vid of our trip and he could join in with us from home.

Home. At last.

The blue-and-greenness sharpened into peaks and valleys, a sparkling ribbon winding through them, then we could make out more distinctive features.

“Oh, is that it?” An outlined misshape became a collection of white buildings, surrounded by a high wall. “Look, Kirin!” I pointed to a collection of interlinking blue circles. “The pool!”

He bounced in his seat, as far as the safety harness would allow.

“Can I go in as soon as we get there? Can I?”

“Not straight away,” I cautioned. “I think somebody will want to meet you first. But later, yes. Of course.”

Phasma brought us down with skilful precision to a landing pad on the flat roof of one of the buildings. Kirin wanted to jump out immediately – and so did I, to be honest – but we had to wait for the engines to cool and the safety harnesses to to slacken. It was a ridiculously long wait.

“I’ll say goodbye, then,” said Phasma, as the harnesses clicked off.

“What? You aren’t going to stay for lunch or anything?”

“Not today. I have a feeling I might be a bit of a third wheel. Or fourth wheel, I suppose. Go on – I’ll come and visit soon, if you’ll have me. Ben said something about a pool party.”

“You’re always welcome,” I said, submitting to her goodbye hug; a real bone-squeezer, so tight I felt a little wavelet of nausea at the pit of my stomach.

Phasma helped us throw the luggage out on to the landing strip then retired into the cockpit. I took Kirin’s hand and led him down the steps, scanning the roof for signs of life.

At first I didn’t see him, then a door in one corner of the roof space opened and he emerged. The blonde dye from the brothel had washed out and his hair struck a vivid note among all the white plaster of our surroundings. He wore a capacious white shirt and sand-coloured trousers tucked into high boots; he billowed a little in the light breeze.

My heart hurt with love for him and my feet wanted to lift off the ground and fly to him, but I held myself back, nudging Kirin forward instead.

“Let’s go and say hello to him,” I whispered, following in his uncertain steps.

Hux was striding to meet us, his face tensed. As Kirin drew closer he stopped and dropped to one knee, holding out his arms.

“You must be Kirin,” he said, once they were face to face.

“You’ve got my hair,” said Kirin, pointing at it.

“Or is it you that has my hair?” said Hux, and then he couldn’t speak any more, masking his lapse in coherence by drawing Kirin into a close embrace. Kirin was oblivious, but I saw Hux’s face as I’d never seen it, contorted with emotion, his eyes spilling tears, his adam’s apple bobbing like a cork in the ocean. I joined the huddle, absorbing his tears into my skin while he absorbed mine. The three of us together at last. It still felt like a dream.

Hux gasped for breath and made a manful attempt to stem the tearful tide, pressing the heel of his hand into both eyes before drawing back a little and trying a smile.

“You know who I am?” he asked Kirin.

“Yes, she told me. You’re my dad.”

Hux had to look away and blot some further leakage before acknowledging his son’s words.

“That’s right,” he said. “I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to find you.”

“Mummy said you were lost in the dark,” he said. “It must have been really, _really_ dark.”

Hux nodded, swallowing.

“It was,” he said. “But look at where we are now. Not dark at all.” He lifted his eyes to mine. “We can be happy here, can’t we?”

“Happy ever after,” I said, and we kissed over Kirin’s head until he yawned and told us he was starving.

“No chance of starving here,” said Hux, hefting our luggage and leading us to the corner door, which led to a long spiral staircase. “There’s a vegetable patch, greenhouses, orchards, an olivet grove, even a vineyard.”

“Are you OK to carry that?” I asked, concerned for his ribs.

“Fine,” he said, though I well knew that he wouldn’t admit otherwise even if he were doubled up in agony. “Why don’t you two go through on to the terrace while I put these in the bedrooms? I’ve put some food out for you.”

“Sweet lord of the Sith, it’s beautiful here,” I said, wandering with Kirin across a broad white terrace, bordered with pillared arches. Everything was wound around with vines and brightly coloured flowers; the neglect was apparent, but so was the lush life of the place. Steps led down from the terrace to the famous swimming pool. Kirin ran straight over to it, but the water was rusty and brackish around the edges and didn’t look safe.

“I think it’ll need refilling before you can go in,” I warned him.

“Refill it now then!”

“Later,” I laughed. “I thought you were hungry.”

Hux joined us at a shaded table on which he’d placed bread and salad vegetables and a half bottle of jewel-red wine.

“There’s a huge wine cellar,” he said, “underneath here. Bottles and bottles of the best vintages. I can’t believe Organa didn’t want them.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I only arrived a few hours ago,” he said. “I haven’t seen half of it yet. But I have to warn you about the womp rats. There are rather a lot of them. Dealing with them will be my first task.”

“Uh, no,” said Kirin, waving a chunk of bread. “Your second. After refilling the pool.”

Hux sat back and laughed. The sun turned his hair to red-gold fire. I’d never seen his hair in sunlight before. He was almost a different man.

“Refilling the pool it is, then,” he said. “But I’ll need your help.”

“That’s OK,” said Kirin.

After eating, I left Hux and Kirin to bond over the pool while I busied myself with making a start on de-ratting and de-cobwebbing our living quarters. It was clear that we had a lot of hard work ahead of us, but there was a pleasure and a kind of glory in it. This was work worth doing.

Hux and Kirin came to find me after an hour or so, to tell me that the pool was ready.

“That was quick,” I said, rubbing my sweaty, dirt-streaked forehead. The womp rats were giving me quite a runaround.

“Are you coming in?” asked Kirin.

“Oh…maybe. There’s lots of work to do, though.”

“You can take a break,” persuaded Hux, pulling a thread of cobweb from my hair. “And I said I’d deal with the rats. Leave them to me.”

Kirin ran into the adjoining room to dig out his bathing trunks.

“There’s just so many of them,” I said. “And they’re _big_. The thought of them running across our faces while we’re asleep…” I shuddered.

Hux drew a blaster from his belt and set it to stun mode.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s do a sweep. You take that side of the house, I’ll take this. Kirin!” He raised his voice, calling through the open door.

“What?”

“Stay in there until we come and collect you. It’s very important that you don’t come out. All right?”

“How long for?”

“Not long. Just stay there, all right?”

I used my ancient, domestic-issue stunner on every rat I saw, but my aim was poor and most of them simply ran off or squeezed themselves behind heavy items of furniture. From the other side of the house, I heard a series of rapid, efficient blasts and I felt sure Hux was outperforming me with ease. Humph. I was going to get at least one of these suckers if it was the last thing I did.

I found one scratching away under a winding staircase and I lined up my shot, creeping as quietly as I could towards the oblivious beast. It was a good idea to keep your distance from these creatures, because their bite was highly toxic, but it really didn’t know I was there, and the nearer I got, the better chance I had of scoring a hit…

I crouched over it, pointing the stunner. It turned suddenly, and leapt. I crashed back, screaming, into a dusty old chair, defending my face with my arm.

A quick burst of fire hit it in mid-leap before it could bite me.

I turned to see Hux coolly lowering his weapon before extending a hand to me.

“You got too close,” he scolded. “You know you should keep back.”

“I thought it…hadn’t seen me…” I said faintly.

“I’ve done my side of the house. How many are left here?”

“You’ve got them _all_?”

“I think so.”

As I lurched to my feet, nausea washed over me. I put my hand to my mouth, suddenly convinced I was about to throw up over Hux’s boots.

“What’s the matter? Did you get bitten? Are you all right?” He pulled me closer, running a hand over my forehead to check my temperature. I felt clammy and lightheaded and…

I’d felt like this before. Exactly like this.

“Oh, you have to be _kidding_ me,” I whispered, putting a hand to my stomach. In all the hurly burly of recent events, I hadn’t been keeping track of my cycle, but unless I was mistaken…

“What?” Hux’s tone was sharp, anxious.

“It’s just…I think…” My gorge rose again and I waited for it to settle. I put a tentative hand on my breasts. Yes. They’d felt like _that_ before too. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I think you’ve gone and knocked me up again.”

“What?” he repeated, but his voice was high and excited this time. “Are you serious?”

“I’ll have to do a test but…I think so. Oh _shit_ , you _arsehole_.”

He laughed with delight. “I’d say I’m sorry,” he said softly, wrapping me in an embrace. “But I’d be lying. Oh, Marillia. Is it that bad?”

I shook my head, my eyes filling with tears, starting the slow process of adjustment to the idea.

“No,” I admitted, clinging to him for all I was worth as the chaos of my mind reconfigured into some kind of order. “No, it isn’t really that bad at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - next chapter will be pretty much wall to wall smut ;).


	21. Chapter 21

“Is he asleep?”

Hux gently closed the door that connected our room with Kirin’s and came to where I sat on the newly-made bed. These were the only two rooms our day’s work had yet rendered habitable, and they were still far from perfect, but they were at least womp rat, cobweb and two-decades-of-grime free.

“Finally,” he said, taking my hand and running his fingers around the edge of my sleeve. The lightness of his touch made my hairs stand on end and a shiver creep down the back of my neck.

“It’s been a big day for him,” I said, but I shared some of Hux’s subtly stated frustration. We had been trying to nudge Kirin into the land of dreams for nearly three hours.

“For all of us,” said Hux softly. He kissed my forehead. “Do you think he’ll get used to me?”

“Of course he will,” I said, mildly surprised that Hux had asked the question. He and Kirin had been like long-lost twins all evening. “He adjusts very quickly to new situations, always has. And think what you had to adjust to at his age.”

Hux sighed. “I’d rather not.” A cloud passed over his face then dispersed. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this week, while I was stuck in that med bay. Most of it was about you.”

The fingers that had been stroking my wrist closed around it as he fixed his mouth on mine.

“Ditto,” I breathed, emerging from the kiss as if I was breaking the surface of deep water.

“Almost all of it was painfully erotic,” he whispered, laying me down with a hand on my shoulder and crouching over me. We kissed again, joining together and locking our limbs around each other. I tried to be aware of his healing ribs, but he didn’t seem remotely troubled by them. The painkillers the D’Qar medics had packed him off with had to be good.

We kissed with open mouths until he was hard and I was wet and our clothes stuck uncomfortably to our skin. He was a little heavier on me than he had been back at the brothel; his confinement at the resistance base had done him good. His hip bones weren’t as bruising and he was stronger, his flesh firmer. With him on top of me, I felt close to heaven. I pushed my fingertips into his scalp and moaned down his throat.

With a salutory nip on my lower lip, he broke our mouths apart and knelt up, straddling my hips. He pulled me into a sitting position and removed my top, reaching behind to unclip my bra and discard it. When he cupped my breasts, they felt full and tender and I flinched a little.

“Be careful with them,” I pleaded.

He kissed each nipple reverently, then eyed me, questioning.

“Pregnancy,” I said. “Makes them feel a million times more sensitive.”

He smiled at that, kissed them again, then laid me back down, ready to get to work on my lower garments. My trousers were undone and off me in seconds, followed swiftly by my knickers. I lay, bared to his gaze, revelling in the way his eyes devoured me.

“How careful do I have to be?” he asked, looking pointedly at my stomach and below.

“Oh, I don’t think you have to hold back,” I said. “Not at this stage, anyway.”

He swooped down and kissed my still-flat belly, then let his lips drift lower.

“Good,” he murmured, tickling my mound with the vibrations of his voice. “Because I’m not sure I can.”

I squirmed a little as his thumbs prised open my lower lips and he gave their contents the full attention of his mouth and tongue. He feasted on me, making clear his satisfaction with low vocalisations, mixing in with my somewhat breathier responses. The strength drained from my legs; I bunched the bedclothes in helpless fists as my arousal grew and grew until it was too big to contain and my orgasm spilled out of me, into him.

“Mm,” he approved, shinning back up my body, kissing my own perfumed residue into my mouth. “I could eat you for every meal. And now I can. I can have you every day and every night, for the rest of my life. And I think I will.”

I thought he was failing to factor in the birth of the new baby, but the sentiment made me weak with pleasure, so I didn’t challenge it. Instead I plucked at his shirt, searching for the easiest way to get it off him. He took the hint, rose up on his knees and pulled it off. The movement was less fluid than I might have expected, and his uncovering revealed that the bruises were not quite gone yet.

I put gentle fingers to the worst of them. “Does this hurt?” I asked.

He shook his head, his jaw set. I didn’t believe him.

“I’ve had worse,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” he said tautly, then he shut me up with another kiss, long and hard and designed to teach me a lesson. _We will not be discussing this now_.

Well, it was fair enough. The kiss made me forget any notion of having to treat him delicately. I held him close and tight to me and writhed underneath him, arching into the rocky lump in his trousers. Why was he still wearing them? I yanked at his belt, signalling that it should be long gone.

He was in agreement. He climbed off me, panting, and unbuckled with a toe-curling flourish. I watched greedily as the leather snaked through the loops then cracked free. Hux doubled it briefly in his fist, his eyes glowing at me. He knew what I was remembering. For a giddy second, I thought I was in for a re-enactment, but he threw the belt aside and worked on his trousers instead.

_Maybe later_ , his covert glance at me seemed to say.

I propped myself up on an elbow, my chest heaving as he released his lower body. His erection sprang into centre stage; I tried not to stare at it, but he caught me and smiled wickedly.

“I hope you’re ready,” he said. “Because I certainly am. That was a very long week.”

“The longest ever,” I concurred, reaching out to him.

We lay on our sides, facing each other, kissing and caressing, closer and closer, until he pulled one of my legs over his hip and skewered me. I gasped and held on tight, always a little surprised by the stretch of it. My startled mewl soon gave way to lower sighs of pleasure. It felt old and new at the same time, and absolutely right. I was never more at one with myself than when I had him in me.

“Made for me,” he breathed, apparently struck by the same feeling.

He rolled me on to my back and pinned me in place while we kissed, joined at full hilt.

“I’m not sure how long this can last,” he confessed painfully. “I’ll try…ohhh.”

He shut his eyes, his cheeks flushed and forehead dewy.

“It’s OK,” I whispered. “We’ve got all night.”

“Mm, yes, we have,” he said thickly. “I’ll just…”

He drew back slowly, biting his lower lip, holding a breath high in his chest.

I put my hand to the side of his face, stroking along his cheekbone with my thumb. This face I loved and had missed so much was above mine again. Nothing could possibly be wrong.

“I don’t care,” I said. “I don’t mind. As long as you’re here.”

He let out the breath all at once, dragging his voice out with it in a low moan.

He advanced once more, kissed me like a madman, thrust half a dozen more times then conceded defeat. Even Hux’s iron self-discipline wasn’t equal to this challenge. He emptied into me, burying his face in my neck and moaning it out while I kissed his ear and the delicate skin beneath.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling out and collapsing beside me.

“Don’t be.” I leant over him and kissed his forehead and the tip of his nose. “I love you.”

He opened his pained eyes and nudged up closer to me, our foreheads knocking together.

“I love you too. You can’t know how much.”

“Yes I can.”

“Oh, sweet Sith.” More kissing followed. “I still can’t quite believe we’re here.”

“I know. It’s… I mean… I really thought we’d end up dead or worse.”

“I’d have seen that nothing bad happened to you,” he said. “As far as I was able, anyway.”

“When you went to Snoke…” I blinked away tears.

“I had to. It was for you…for all of you.”

“All the same, I couldn’t have lived with it.”

He held me against him, my head in the crook of his shoulder, his arm like a steel band around me.

“I treated you so badly,” he said softly. “I don’t understand why you still…”

“All that’s over,” I said. “You don’t live that life any more.”

“No,” he said. “I feel like a snake that’s shed an old, much too constricting, skin.”

I raised my head and winked at him. “A snake, eh?”

He prodded me in the ribs. “You have a filthy mind, Officer Rome.”

“That’s pretty rich, coming from you, General Hux.”

He sobered, cupping my face.

“I don’t suppose you ever imagined, back when we first met, that we’d be together in earnest one day.”

I shook my head, pinching my lips together. “I thought you’d probably end up killing me,” I said.

He took a long breath. “It was well within the realms of possibility, back then,” he said. “I wonder if I could have done it, though.”

“You were cold-blooded enough in those days.”

“Cold-blooded,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Yes. They breed it into you, up there on Arkanis.”

“We’ll breed different qualities into our children,” I said, putting a hand on my stomach.

“Yes,” he affirmed, pausing for another lengthy kiss. “We will.”

“I hate thinking of everything you missed with Kirin,” I said softly, laying my head on his shoulder. “And now you have a second chance.”

“I was hoping I would,” he said. “Third, fourth and fifth chances, too, if possible.”

“Lord, really?” I eyed him askance. “A skellball team?”

“Well, what else is there going to be for us to do around here?”

I laughed. “You just want extra subjects for your new empire,” I accused.

“Guilty,” he smiled back. “Although I’m quite happy with the subjects I already have. I couldn’t be more fortunate in my empress and my heir apparent.”

“And soon a second-in-line to the throne.”

“I can’t wait,” he said.

“I’ll be the size of a bantha soon enough,” I said mournfully. “With swollen ankles and furious hormones to boot.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Hux.

“Oh, you’re not!”

“Seriously, I am,” he said. “You know how the thought of marking you as mine turns me on? Well, this is the ultimate marking, isn’t it? The visible proof that you are mine. I predict you’ll have difficulty keeping my hands off you.”

“No change there, then,” I said, but his words were giving me a frisson too.

“When you left Starkiller,” he said, “one of the few shreds of consolation left to me was the thought that you were walking around somewhere, growing bigger and bigger, and that every man who looked at you would see that you belonged to someone else. I wish they could have known that it was me, but I sometimes imagined that they did. It was a little point of light in those dark times. You would always, always have something of me in you, and with you. You would never really be free of me.”

“That would have been true anyway,” I said, shivering slightly, reminded of what a frightening man he had been back then. “I never felt free of you in all that time. I was always expecting you to jump out from around the next corner.”

“And then, one day, I did,” he said.

“That was the next tree,” I reminded him. “Not the next corner.”

“Mm.” He shut his eyes, relishing the memory. “Excuse me a moment.”

He headed into the ensuite bathroom and I lay down, wrapping the light cotton coverlet around me. Here on Naboo, it was warm enough to do without bedclothes, if so inclined. We would need to get the ancient air conditioning unit functioning again if it got any hotter.

When Hux came back from the bathroom, he picked something up from underneath the dresser and carried it back with him – it looked like my battered old backpack. It didn’t seem the time or place to get the camping stove going.

“Hold on,” I said, hopping out of bed, wanting to splash my face with cold water before the inevitable round two was signalled.

When I came out of the bathroom, Hux had tipped some of the backpack contents on to the bed.

“Oh my,” I said, stopping and putting my hands to my mouth.

I had forgotten his episode of pilfering before we left the brothel.

His eyes glowed wickedness at me. He patted the bed beside him.

“Come here,” he purred, beckoning.

“I’m not sure it’s in my best interests,” I said, fixating on the leather strap that lay before him, with the handcuffs and the bottle of lubricant.

He picked up the strap and cracked it down on to the mattress, making me whimper.

“It’s _definitely_ not in your best interests to disobey me, Marillia,” he said. “Believe me. Don’t make me wait.”

“What if Kirin wakes up?” I whispered, edging closer.

“Those walls are about a foot thick,” said Hux. “And he’s exhausted. He won’t wake up. Now…” He stretched out an impatient arm, reaching for me. “Get over here before I have to come and get you.”

I knelt tentatively on the edge of the bed, still an arm and a half’s length from him.

“Are you going to…use that…on me?” I asked.

“If you ask me nicely,” he said, and this time his lunge found its target, and I found myself tipped over his lap before I could squeak.

“Are you going to ask me nicely?” he breathed, bringing my wrists behind me and holding them in the small of my back.

“Ask you for what?” I stalled, though I knew this would only exacerbate my eventual fate. Hux knew when I was playing for time.

“Oh dear,” he sighed. He picked something up, and my wrists were encircled in cold smoothness before the silk-lined handcuffs clicked shut around them. “You really aren’t helping yourself.”

One hand gripped me around the scruff of my neck; another stroked a deliciously slow path over the curve of my bottom.

“Well?” he said, his palm continuing its up-and-down back-and-forth across my cheeks.

“Well what?”

I gasped and bucked across his lap as his hand fell hard where it had been caressing.

“You know the score here, Marillia,” he said. “You can make this as long and painful as you want, or you can cut it down by asking me nicely.”

I kicked my ankles a bit, but only because I knew I was beaten, in every sense of the word. I was going to have to do what he said, or he’d just spank me with his hand until I gave in.

I took a breath, reminding myself that the humiliation wouldn’t sting quite as keenly as Hux’s hand, much as it felt otherwise.

“Please will you use your strap on me, sir,” I muttered.

“On which part of you?”

_Damn you!_

“On my bottom, sir.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

_Oh, you asshole! I hate you!_

“Because…I deserve it, sir.”

“That’s right. You do. Well, since you ask so nicely…”

He picked up the strap and laid it on the back of my neck, drawing its cold, slick surface along my spine and down.

“Yes, I will.”


	22. Chapter 22

If I had one reason to be grateful for the caning Hux had given me back at the brothel, it was that anything else felt like a sweet, sweet caress in comparison.

The leather strap might have been something much more fearsome before that day, but now I was able to appreciate its warm, friendly sting as Hux applied it all over my bottom and upper thighs with quick, wristy snaps.

At least, at first I was.

He wasn’t hitting hard – I think he held back in fear of doing some damage to the tiny speck of life inside me – but even at half-strength, the glow soon built up. After a few minutes of steady disciplinary attention, Hux’s breathing was laboured and that glow had turned into a burn. I began to fidget and squirm, twisting about on his lap like a snake in a panic.

“Feeling it now?” he enquired with rapacious satisfaction.

“Mm…ahhh,” I replied. My fingers wiggled uselessly in their cuffs, longing to break out and cup my cheeks, protecting them from the merciless onslaught.

But the merciless onslaught continued.

“Good,” said Hux. “I want you to remember this.”

“I think…that’s inevitable…” I hissed out.

“And perhaps you’ll think twice,” he said, panting lightly now, “before you disrespect me in front of other people.”

“I didn’t…ow!”

“On several occasions,” he accused, “at the base at D’Qar.”

Actually, now he came to mention it… Lord, Hux had a memory for this type of thing. It was clear I wouldn’t be getting away with much from now on. All the same, I snorted with laughter through my pain at the memory of Kylo Ren’s system password.

“Do you deny it?” he continued, smacking away.

“Nnnooo,” I wailed. “I was just…ah, _fuck_ …joking…ohhhh.”

He put the strap down and rubbed my red hot rear.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he said, but he couldn’t resist adding his handprint to each cheek all the same. “For now. Have you?”

“Yes, sir,” I assured him. I could feel the heat radiating from me into his soothing palm. My tight skin throbbed, feeling thinner and more delicate than a soap bubble.

“Such a bright red,” he whispered. “I like it that way.”

I tensed a little as he raised his hand from my backside and reached for something. Next, the uncapping of a bottle. Oh sweet Sith. The lubricant.

“It’s been a long time, Marillia,” he said, working it into his fingertips. “But it’s still so fresh in my memory.” One finger glided along my crease and burrowed its way down into the darkness. Cold slick gel warmed up as he found his target and circled it gently, but with unmistakable intent.

I braced myself for the push, blushing hard at this proof of his complete ownership. It wasn’t that I wanted to resist him, but it was still so piercingly intimate that it seemed to cross a line into a new order of surrender.

“Don’t fight it,” he chided, using his other hand to massage my shoulder blades. “Do you remember how it felt the last time?”

I couldn’t form words, my answer sticking thick in my throat.

His finger twisted forwards, breaching the delicate ring of muscle. I gasped and clenched; he waited patiently for me to settle.

“Do you?” he prompted.

I whispered, “Yes.”

“I made all of you mine,” he said dreamily, probing deeper.

I focused on being still, on giving in to the intensity of the sensation, on being his.

He sank in to the knuckle and stayed there for a while, letting me acclimatise to the way all the different but similar heats across that part of my body met up and soaked into each other. The soreness of my cheeks, the prickly, lustful wetness between my legs and the stinging stretch of my back passage all combined to make me want to sob with helpless need.

“Oh, Marillia,” he breathed, half-rotating his invading finger. “You need this, don’t you?”

 I whimpered my assent, but it wasn’t good enough.

“Tell me,” he ordered, pulling halfway out then pushing back down.

“Need you to…”

“What?” He pulled all the way out and my muscles clamped around the sudden absence, clinging to nothing.

“Oh, please!” I cried in anguish, and for once, he took pity on me and laughed, kissing my wrists as he uncuffed them.

“All right,” he said, rolling me on to my back, somewhat to my surprise. “Since you’re my favourite girl.” He lunged for the pillows, dragging a couple of them down the bed before placing them beneath my coccyx, then lifted my legs and draped them over his shoulders.

“I want to see your face,” he explained, picking up on my confusion. He had a hold of the lube bottle again, and he recoated his fingers, using them to spread my cheeks wide, making the way clear for his eye-popping erection.

I felt the need to hold on to something, but there were no obvious contenders. I had to content myself with bunching up two knots of coverlet in my trembling fists. Was I ready for this? Was it possible to be ready for this?

I watched his face, the unswerving intentness of it as he looked down at his target. I was helplessly open, tremulous with anticipation.

He lodged the tip of his shaft between my cheeks and I tried to remember how this had worked before. I had to try not to fight it. That was what he’d said. That was what I’d done.

“That’s it…keep still…” He pushed in, so slowly, making me feel every iota of sensation as he stretched me wider and impossibly wider. I couldn’t help but whimper a little. “Good girl,” he soothed, “you’re taking it so well.”

The lube helped him slide in with minimal friction, but all the same, I knew I was going to feel this the next day, especially when he reached that particular point of no return. The sting of fullness was fierce and I kicked a little, pushing my heels into his shoulders. This was a bad move, because it made him stop just when I needed him to go on and push through the worst of the discomfort – I was punished for it by having him clamp his hands on my twisting ankles, making me pant through the extended burn and break into a prickling sweat along my hairline.

“Are you going to behave?” he said sternly.

“Yes, yes, please, just…”

He pushed on and I grunted with relief as the ache receded and turned into a tingling sense of satiation, at once satisfying and shameful.

“All the way,” he said raggedly. “All the way up. Who owns you, kitten?”

“You do, sir,” I moaned, limp with submission as my muscles tightened around him.

He bent and kissed me, thrusting his hips in time with his tongue, making sure I got the message loud and clear. I was well and truly plundered. I reached up and clung to his shoulders, pushing back against him, showing how eager I was to take his full length and keep it. He growled into my throat and rose up again, rotating his pelvis a little to give me a foretaste of what was in store for me.

When he seized my hips and retreated for the first thrust, I was ready, but it still felt counter to the natural order of things, and I squirmed. He rammed back in and set to a fast, forceful pace, perhaps sensing that that was what I needed.

“Oh kriffing hell,” he whispered, grabbing blindly at one of my breasts while his other hand made a bee-line for my clit, which was blatantly open to him in this position. “You’re _so fucking tight_ , I can’t…”

But he could, and indeed, he did. He felt bigger and harder than ever, seeming to grow inside me with each forward drive, although I wasn’t sure it was possible. At the same time, he thumb-stroked my clit, which was swollen and soaked with my juices, two fingers seated inside me as he worked. I tried to stave off my climax for as long as possible, because I had a giddy feeling that it might kill me, but Hux wanted that orgasm out of me and he wasn’t going to let me wait.

“Come on,” he urged, slapping one hand against my cheek, pulling open my mouth, as if ordering up a scream from it. “Take it, take it, come for me.”

Right on cue, I came like fury, howling it out, kicking and flailing, half-blind with the impact. Thank the lord for those thick stone walls.

He kissed my slack, dry lips and gripped my hips. I watched his blurred upper body as he slammed into me, then fixed my dazed gaze on his face as it contorted with savage pleasure. He emptied into me, teeth gritted against a growl that sounded as if it was ripped from the depths of his being.

He shut his eyes and let his neck droop, panting above me with a face as red as the hair tumbling over his brow.

Before, when I had seen him like this, I had wanted to make the moment last forever in case it was the last time. Now, I didn’t have to feel like that any more. Now I could move on, stroke the tendrils of hair from his face, wriggle backwards off his softening shaft and pull him down on top of me for a slaked, satiated kiss.

We could do this again any time we liked. Although, maybe not right away.

A little while later, we lay in the sunken bath I had hosed about a million spiders out of earlier in the day, drifting half in and out of sleep. My head lay back on his chest and his arms were loosely clasped around me, resting on my stomach. Half a bottle of something valuable from the cellars stood on the scrubbed tiles beside us, along with a glass for him, but he was too floaty and sleepy to drink much, and I couldn’t anyway.

He moved a hand up to my neck, running a finger along the curve of the golden choker.

“We need to do something about this,” he said.

I hinged my neck right back, looking up into his face from an upside-down angle. My forehead scraped against the orange stubble on his chin.

“Do you mean…? What?”

“Well, you can’t wear it forever. Kirin might want it one day.”

“You can take it off, then,” I said.

He shook his head. “I’m not going to be the one to break the tradition. It comes off on our wedding day.”

I twisted round to face him properly.

“Can we do that, though? I mean, we’re officially non-people now. How can we…?”

“Officially.” He wrinkled his nose. “But we are still alive. And there are people who know it, and some of those people can officiate at weddings.”

“Can they? Which ones?”

“General Organa for one. She can sanction anything.”

“But would she want to… She wouldn’t do it. The paperwork…”

“Paperwork isn’t necessary. A formal bond made in the presence of witnesses is all that’s required.”

I stared at him.

“Do you really think we could?”

“We can ask her. Why not? Even if the world can’t know the parents of my children are married, _I_ want to know it.”

“It would be nice,” I said wistfully.

He darted forward to kiss me.

“Consider that a proposal, then,” he said. “Again.”

I laid my head on his slippery shoulder, nuzzling his damp neck.

“Consider that an acceptance,” I said. “Again.”

He tightened his hold on me.

“Perhaps not quite as romantic as the first time,” he whispered. “No space flights or telescopes.”

“I don’t need those,” I said. “I have everything I want, just here.”

*

The forces of the universe were on our side the next morning, ordaining that Kirin slept in well past his usual dawn rising time. It was just as well.

We had been up most of the night, in some or other form of close conjunction. When Kirin banged on the door in the blazing mid-morning, I ached all over, inside and out, and Hux didn’t look any less wasted either.

His first act was to reach for the heavy-duty painkillers the medics had prescribed him and down three at once.

I creaked, wincing with each step, over to the door, admitting Kirin, who bounded straight on to the bed, on to the legs of his suffering father.

“It’s really late,” he exclaimed. “Look how high the sun is. Why are you still in bed?”

“I think we were all very tired,” said Hux. “We worked hard yesterday.”

I slid back under the covers, already calculating breakfast and the day’s tasks. The kitchen really needed tackling first.

“All I did was go in a spaceship and swim,” said Kirin. “That’s not hard work. I don’t know why I didn’t wake up earlier. I wanted to see if the sunrise was different here.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” I said. “We can watch it with you.”

“What are we doing today?” asked Kirin. “Can we go down to that lake at the bottom of the hill?”

“There’s far too much to do here, I’m afraid,” I said.

“And I need you to help your mother,” said Hux. “She might have to take it a little easy from now on.”

I gave him a warning look. It was very early – perhaps too early to be telling Kirin about it. There was still every chance I might miscarry.

“Why, is she ill? Are you ill?”

“No, I’m not ill,” I said. “It’s just…I’m fine, but I might get tired more easily for while, that’s all.”

“Is it because you aren’t used to this planet? The air feels like the air at home, but it’s kind of lighter.” Kirin seemed satisfied with his own explanation, and the conversation moved seamlessly on to the state of the kitchen and Hux’s intentions to look at the wiring.

After a breakfast of fruit from the orchard and yesterday’s leftover bread with oil from one of dozens of dusty bottles on the kitchen shelves, Kirin and I set to work.

He was willing enough to investigate all the strange things in the cupboards but less keen on helping me lift the layers of grime from every surface and wipe down the walls. I had to stop for frequent vomiting breaks in the cracked old sink, pretending to Kirin that I was getting a drink of water from the tap.

Once the floor was awash with soapy water, ready for mopping, he ran off to play, and I was happy enough to let him go, on condition that he didn’t stray from the little herb garden behind the kitchen. I took a short break myself, out in the kitchen courtyard, sitting down on a wrought-iron bench and fanning my perspiring face. I felt heavy as lead, needing more sleep as a matter of urgency. Sitting down reminded me of the previous night’s activities, the rawness between my legs and behind causing me to shift uncomfortably and long for my bed. I hoped Hux was similarly challenged, the insatiable swine.

But the memories were also sweet and I drifted into them, leaning back on the bench and shutting my eyes, enjoying the cool shade of the courtyard.

I was jolted back into wakefulness, who knows how much later, by Kirin shaking my arm.

“Mummy! Mummy! Wake up. There’s somebody at the gate.”

“What? No, there can’t be. Why would there be…? Are you sure?”

“I heard this ringing noise, so I went to see what it was, and there was somebody at the main gate. I saw her, but she didn’t see me.”

“Her?”

“Yes, a lady. Come and see.”

My mind whirring with probabilities and improbabilities, I followed Kirin back through the kitchen, out across the herb garden and towards the secure gated entrance that gave on to the winding mountain road.

A passer-by? A curious gossip from the town, spying our spacecraft landing yesterday? Tessia? Phasma?

Unless it were the latter two, the visitor would have to be sent on their way. I couldn’t risk having our identities compromised, and my face was likely to be fresh in everyone’s memory, after my recent exposure on the newsreels. My stomach boiled with the horrible thought that our perfect idyll, so hard won, might be in jeopardy.

Standing behind Kirin, I stopped in a spot where the gate could be seen without giving our position away. I put my hand sharply to my mouth, trying to prevent a sudden upsurge of nausea.

I knew this woman. And I really, really didn’t want to see her.

“Go back, Kirin,” I whispered. “Quiet as a mouse now.” I began to edge away, glancing over my shoulder towards the safety of the kitchen garden.

Hux appeared around a corner, clutching a handful of wires.

“I’ve discovered what was causing the problem with the first floor lighting,” he said. “An ants’ nest in the junction box, would you believe…” He tailed off, following the direction of my anguished gaze. “What is it?”

“Wil!” The voice was stentorian, a cold, harsh note in the warm air. “I know you’re there. I can hear you.”

He froze, grimacing painfully for half a minute before stepping out into sight of the gate.

“Mother,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

 


	23. Chapter 23

As Hux walked towards the gate, his mother’s sternly-set face unexpectedly crumpled and she began to shake with the force of her sobs.

“Mother, mother,” clucked Hux, trying to work out the complex mechanism by which the gate opened.

“They told me…you were…dead,” she wept.

I remained out of sight, clinging on to Kirin, who was transfixed by the scene.

“She’s his mother?” he said in a loud stage whisper. “Does that mean she’s my grandma?”

I nodded briefly, wanting to go and help Hux with the gate, but sensing that this was a scene that should be played out between mother and son alone.

“As you can see, I’m not,” said Hux testily. “Damn it, where’s the…ah.”

The gate began a slow sideways motion and Hux’s mother threw herself through the gap as soon as it was wide enough. I expected her to enfold him in a painful bear hug, but she didn’t. She stood a foot away from him, just staring at him through her tears, while he fidgeted awkwardly with the gate mechanism.

“Well? Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Oh. Yes. Come on in. Excuse the state of the place. It hasn’t been inhabited for twenty years.”

And that was it. No hug, no kiss, no physical demonstration of any kind.

“How did you find me?” he asked, before putting a hand up to his forehead and answering his own question. “The choker, of course.”

“Yes. I still have that tracking device you gave me.”

Kirin and I flitted away to the safety of the kitchen before they rounded our corner, but their conversation was still audible through the open door.

“I expected to find _her_ and the child here, but I didn’t think…” She broke off, her voice wavering again. “Why didn’t you come to _me_? You know I’d have sheltered you. You’re all I have left in the world…”

“Not quite all,” corrected Hux. “You have a grandson.”

“That floozy of yours won’t let me near him.”

Their footsteps stopped suddenly.

“I will not have the mother of my child spoken of in that manner,” he said with menacing calm. “If you want to remain on these premises, you might as well remember that.”

There was a silence, then a sulky, “I suppose _she’s_ around here somewhere.”

“You know she is. And so is Kirin. If you want to see him, you’ll have to keep a civil tongue in your head. Am I making myself clear?”

“Oh, Wil…”

“ _Am I making myself clear_?”

“Yes, yes,” she said irritably, then under her breath, “If your father could hear the way you speak to me now…”

“Why don’t you take a seat on the terrace? I’ll bring you something to drink…are you hungry?”

“No, I ate at the spaceport. Well, the place certainly needs a lot of work, but it’s got potential.”

That was the last I heard until Hux rushed into the kitchen, mopping his brow.

“We have a problem,” he said, leaning on a counter top as if he might collapse otherwise.

“I know,” I said. “I saw her at the gate.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well…I couldn’t turn her away. She’s my mother.”

“Don’t you like her?” piped up Kirin.

Hux had no answer to that, other than to suggest Kirin went outside to play.

“I suppose she can’t do any harm to us?” I said tentatively. “I mean…do you think she would?”

He shook his head. “She wouldn’t deliberately betray me. But she won’t like the set-up we’ve got here at all. Her retirement plan involved me being Emperor of the galaxy.”

“Even she must realise that’s never going to happen now.”

“I don’t know. This is the woman who read me endless bedtime stories about warriors rising from their deathbeds to strike a final blow for glory etcetera.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make it very clear to her that there aren’t going to be any resurrections. You’re dead and that’s the way we like it.”

He smiled faintly.

“Yes. Where did I put that unfinished bottle from last night? Are there any clean glasses?”

“I think it’s still by the bath. Are you…” I stopped him as he turned to leave. “Do you want me to come out? Or…?”

“Yes, I think you should,” he said. “The sooner she gets used to the idea that she has a daughter-in-law the better.”

“Not daughter-in-law yet,” I cautioned.

“In every way that matters,” he rejoindered, reaching for my fingers and stroking them before pulling me out of the kitchen in search of the bottle and glasses.

Ten minutes later we sat at the terrace table with a bottle of wine and a jug of iced water. Kirin had got there before us and was chattering to Hux’s mother as if he’d known her all his life.

“The wildlife is mostly friendly,” he was saying as we approached. “But you can’t swim in the oceans. They’re full of vicious predators. The worst one is…oh. I wanted juice.”

He wrinkled his nose as I put the jug on the table.

A misty eyed Madam Hux turned to her son.

“It’s like going back thirty years,” she said. “Look at him. Just like you at his age.”

“I’m surprised you remember,” said Hux, sitting opposite her and pouring the wine. “How much of my fifth year of life did we spend in each other’s company? About six weeks?”

She stared at him, taken aback.

“You sound bitter,” she said. “Are you trying to accuse me of something?”

Hux shrugged; an _if the cap fits_ type of shrug.

“You’ve met Marillia, of course,” he said, pouring me a glass of water.

She made a noise that came off like a more refined version of a grunt.

“I can’t say it was a pleasure,” she said.

“Whereas having my son abducted was right up there in my top ten best days,” I retorted.

Hux gave us both a frozen stare and we both stared back, uncowed. Kirin’s saucer-eyed gaze flicked between the two of us. This was unsettling him, and I felt bad for snapping.

“I never valued forgiveness,” Hux said quietly, “until I had it bestowed upon me. Now I think it has a lot going for it. What about you, mother?”

“You know how I feel. Retribution facilitates the rule of law. Forgiveness destabilises it.”

“Retribution for what?” I said, trying my best to sound reasonable and calm. “Neither of us has done anything to hurt you.”

“And if we’re talking about the rule of law,” added Hux, “there were certain practices of my father’s at the Academy that were very much contrary to it. You know it, yet I don’t recall any objection from you.”

“You dare to bring your father into this? I’m only glad for his sake that he doesn’t have to see you now – a Republican lapdog, kennelled in this place.”

Hux turned his palms downward and banged them on the table, making the glassware rattle.

“Each of us has grievances against the others,” he said. “We can let them poison the air between us, or we can agree to rise above them and think about constructing more amicable future relationships. For the sake of Kirin and…” He swallowed. “For Kirin’s sake, I suggest we take the latter course.”

“What grievance can you possibly have against me?” said Madam Hux, aghast.

“You helped to make me what I was,” he said simply.

Speechless, she merely stared at him while he continued.

“Marillia has forgiven me for the way I treated her on Starkiller. I have forgiven her for leaving me and depriving me of my son’s first years. If we can overcome such enormous hurdles as that, I think you can forgive us for disappointing you.”

“You…you have disappointed me,” she said slowly, after a pause for thought. “Very deeply. You know the vision your father and I had for you, and your children and grandchildren.”

“That vision can never be realised,” said Hux, more gently. “The sooner you grasp that, the better. Events have conspired to make it impossible – and rightly so.”

“If that awful Vader boy hadn’t betrayed you,” she said, her lips beginning to slacken so that I dreaded more tears.

“Snoke would have had me killed anyway,” said Hux. “In the end. He humoured us, mother, that was all. He found me useful. Until he didn’t.”

“Oh, Snoke – you could have seen him off,” said his mother. “You should have worked harder to usurp him. You should have…”

“Perhaps you should have been the General,” said Hux, “and I the teacher.”

Madam Hux sighed gustily. “We worked _so hard_ , your father and I, to mould you. We never rested. We didn’t let any sign of weakness pass us by.”

“I know,” said Hux. “I sometimes wonder what childhood would have been like, had I been allowed one.”

Madam Hux threw up her hands in a sweeping gesture, as if to usher all her hopes and dreams out of the way.

“Oh, what’s the use?” she lamented. “It’s all over. I shall never be the Emperor’s mother now.”

“No, you won’t,” said Hux.

“Were you going to be an emperor?” asked Kirin, finally finding his tongue.

“Yes,” said Madam Hux, “and then you would have been one after him. Wouldn’t you have loved that?”

“Don’t fill his head with nonsense,” said Hux. “Kirin is going to be very happy in whatever path he chooses. And his active choice is the important thing – nothing will be forced upon him.”

“I wouldn’t mind being an emperor though,” mused Kirin. I brought him up on to my lap and held him close, much as he wriggled to get off. He was really getting too big for sitting on laps, but I needed to shield him from the noxious poison emanating from his grandmother.

“We don’t have emperors in this galaxy,” I said. “So you can’t, I’m afraid. But there are lots and lots of other amazing things you can be, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much if I were you.”

“I’d like to be a marine explorer anyway,” he said. “I’m interested in amphibious creatures. Or maybe I’ll design spacecraft.”

“Right.” Hux and I exchanged a smile, leavening the tension.

“Two excellent and interesting ideas,” said Hux, patting Kirin’s shoulder. “I’d be happy to help you with either of those.”

He turned back to his mother.

“Ideally, I would like it if we could all agree to tolerate each other. I don’t want to deny you the chance to see your grandchildren grow up.”

“Grand _children_?” she said, quick as lightning, her eye going from the jug of water to my stomach.

“Possibly,” back-pedalled Hux. “Hopefully.”

But she was on the scent now, and she knew it.

“Definitely,” she said, and for the first time, she smiled. Some of it even wafted in my direction.

Hux looked at me and I gave him a tiny staccato nod.

“Yes,” he said, eyeing Kirin. “Definitely. But we won’t talk about that now.”

She understood and took a sip of wine, her mood apparently lifted by this information.

“It’s true,” she said. “The only comfort left to me in my old age is the prospect of seeing my grandchildren grow. I have nothing else.”

“Apart from a lot of money,” said Hux, half under his breath.

“This isn’t how I wanted things to be,” she said, “and I’ll make no apology for that. But perhaps it’s time to consider making the best of the situation.”

This concession achieved, the conversation turned to the events that had followed Hux’s escape from the prison vessel. I thought it best to remove Kirin from the scene and we went down to the pool, removing our shoes and paddling in the shallow end while the voices of Hux and his mother drifted gently down from the terrace above.

“So now I have a grandma,” said Kirin, with such elderly resignation that I smiled through my misgivings.

“Yes. Your dad’s mum.”

“She’s really old.”

“Grandparents often are.”

“Have I got anything else? Some children have cousins.”

“You don’t have any cousins.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cousin. Can I get one?”

I sat on the edge of the pool, dangling my feet in the deliciously cool water.

“No, you can’t get a cousin. But you might get a baby brother or sister one day. Would that do?”

He wrinkled his nose.

“Babies are a bit useless really.”

“But they grow.”

“Yeah. I suppose it might be OK.”

By the time we returned to the table, a fragile reconciliation had been achieved. Madam Hux was prepared to accept Hux’s terms of four annual visits and frequent vid-comms. The price was her absolute silence on the matter of her son’s continuing survival.

“Do you think she’ll be discreet?” I asked Hux, once the negotations were completed and we were alone again, fixing up the kitchen after our interruption.

“I’m sure she will. She’s kept a lot of secrets in her time.”

“I hope she’s better at it than you are, anyway,” I said. “She cottoned on about the baby within seconds.”

“Yes, sorry about that,” said Hux, coming up behind me and reaching around for my hands, forcing me to stop scrubbing the counter top. “She’s not easy to keep off the scent. At least she doesn’t know about the wedding.”

“If there is one,” I said, leaning back against him, enjoying his smell of sunscreen and red wine and peaches from the orchard.

“There will be,” he said. “I’ve been in touch with General Organa.”

“What? Already? When did you find time for that, in between rewiring the place and fobbing off your mother?”

“Last night, while you were sleeping. I couldn’t rest for thinking about it, so I sent a message to D’Qar. Anyway, I’ve just had her answer. She’d be delighted to officiate at the ceremony. When do we want to do it?”

“Oh!” I was blindsided. I’d assumed it was a pipe dream and we’d have to remain unofficial forever – not something I particularly minded, but it seemed to matter to Hux. “I don’t know. When do you think?”

“I don’t see any point in waiting,” he said, unsurprisingly. “We should get it done before the baby’s born. When do you think you’ll start to show?”

“About two or three months time. I’d rather not have to wear a maternity dress, if possible.”

“Well, let’s say a month from now then. Out on the terrace, under a rose arch, as few guests as possible.”

“We can combine it with the pool party,” I said, thinking back to the conversations I’d had with Ben and Phasma.

“Pool party?” Hux pressed his fingertips into my wrists. “What pool party?”

“Oh. I kind of promised Ben and Phasma.”

I felt Hux stiffen behind me.

“What’s the problem?” I asked breezily. I wasn’t going to be intimidated in my own home. This was not Starkiller Base and he was no longer my superior officer.

“You didn’t think to consult with me first?”

“I didn’t think I needed your permission to invite my friends round,” I said, keeping my voice level and my chin high. “I’m not a very social person, but I think it would be bad for us, and for Kirin, if we never saw another soul.”

“I understand that,” he said with asperity. “I just think we ought to clear these things with one another first.”

“I was going to mention it to you,” I said. “We hadn’t set a date or anything.”

“Set a date, yes,” he said, releasing my hands and clapping his own palms against the sides of my arms. “So you want Phasma and Force boy at this event then?”

“Well, why not? They’ve done a lot for us. We wouldn’t be here without them.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “It’s just that the idea of voluntarily spending time with Ren still triggers a certain measure of antipathy.”

“Let it go,” I advised him. “He has.”

“So a wedding, followed by a pool party,” he murmured into my ear. I relaxed, almost shocked at how easily he had let his moment of controlling displeasure pass. I had known all along that I would need to develop a backbone of steel if I wanted to oppose him in anything, but perhaps forgiveness wasn’t the only thing he’d begun to understand lately. Perhaps compromise was another.

“I’ve never been to a pool party before,” I said, smiling up at him. “I bet you haven’t either.”

“No,” he admitted. “I don’t really care for parties.”

“But Kirin would like it.”

“Yes, I’m sure he would. Speaking of Kirin…” He paused and looked towards the open door to the kitchen garden. “Where is he now?”

“Your mother is supervising while he pulls up weeds from the terrace flower beds. I think she was going to watch him in the pool afterwards.”

“So we’re alone for a little while?”

One hand travelled down, over my hip, towards the hem of the light silk dress I’d purloined from the General’s old wardrobe. It was a little short on me, but who was judging?

“A _little_ while,” I said, wriggling in his grasp. I really wasn’t sure my body could cope with much after the carnal frenzy of the night before.

“Long enough,” he whispered, kissing the side of my neck, finding the spot that made me forget anything but the urgent need to have him all over me. He lifted my skirt, pushing his erection against my bare thighs.

I put down my scrubbing brush and bent forwards over the counter. Just once more wouldn’t hurt.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very near the end now - just the wedding to go.


	24. Chapter 24

 

“But I don’t really understand why you need me at all. I’m not getting married.”

Kirin’s lower lip jutted at an unnatural degree as he fidgeted with the blanchflower buttonhole he objected to wearing.

I smiled at him with my utmost reserves of patience. The smile had to be transmitted through the mirror, since I couldn’t turn my head, due to Phasma’s slightly brutal hairdressing methods.

“Yes, but you’re one of the most important people at the wedding,” I repeated for the umpteenth time. “It wouldn’t be any good without you. And there won’t be a pool party for people who weren’t at the wedding.”

“Why not?”

“Because there won’t,” I said, my patience running out.

Phasma laughed, pushing blossoms into my braid with ungentle fingers.

“Better do as your mother tells you, sonny,” she said. “She’s the boss today.”

“My name’s not sonny,” sulked Kirin, but his whining stopped and he shrugged himself into the embroidered waistcoat that had caused him such horror when he first viewed it. “Why are you so tall?” he asked Phasma conversationally as his small fingers struggled with the buttons. “You’re the tallest lady I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s so I can fit into my armour,” she told him.

“You have armour? Can I see it?”

“I didn’t bring it with me today, I’m afraid. But there’s another good reason why I’m so tall.”

“What?”

“It’s so I can lift you very, very high in the air and then throw you down into the pool,” she said. He squealed with excitement and jumped up and down a few times. Well played, Phasma, I thought, gasping slightly as she pulled my braid taut to pile it on top of my head.

“I can’t put this flower in,” he said. “I might prick myself on the pin.”

“Go and find daddy – he’ll be able to help you,” I suggested, and he dashed off towards the other end of the house. “Oh kriff, Phasma – bucket, quick!”

She put the metal container on my lap and I threw up into it. My morning sickness was ridiculous this time around and, although Hux continually assured me that it was a good sign, I thought my wedding day might be better without it.

“I shouldn’t have worn this perfume,” apologised Phasma. “It’s too strong for you.”

“It’s OK,” I said, dabbing my hairline and mouth. “I don’t think it’s your perfume. It’ll ease off later anyway. It always seems to peak around now.”

“I hope you’re right. Shall I bring the bucket out with us, just in case?”

I laughed. “That’ll look great in the video replay – the maid of honour lugging a bucket up the aisle for the bride to puke in.”

“Well, perhaps the groom should have thought twice before getting his bride pregnant for her big day,” chided Phasma.

“Yeah, tell that to the groom.”

“Do you think you’ll have a boy or a girl? Have you decided on any names yet?” asked Phasma, after laughing off the mere suggestion of confronting Hux.

“Well, we could follow the fashion of naming our child after its place of conception,” I said. “We’d have a choice of Derelict-Beach-Hut or Brothel.”

“Nice,” said Phasma. “Actually, Bordello is quite cool, for a boy. Has a ring to it.”

“Den,” I considered. “Short for Denofiniquity.”

“Let’s hope it’s a girl,” said Phasma briskly. “There. What do you think?”

The hair looked good, and I had to wonder how Phasma had learned the craft, given her own short cropped locks.

“Lovely,” I said. “I’d give anything to go and eavesdrop on Hux and Ben, though. I can’t imagine what kind of pre-wedding banter they’re having.”

“I just hope it doesn’t end with sabers drawn,” agreed Phasma. “We do prefer the groom to have all limbs intact.”

“And the best man not to have a dripping knife wound in his back.” I turned to her, finally able to move again, and smiled. “Whatever happens, it can’t be any worse than the last attempt.”

Phasma sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Don’t remind me. I’ve never forgiven myself.”

“Well, perhaps it’s time you did,” I said. “After all, you were right in lots of ways. It could never have worked out.”

Phasma poured us both another glass of the non-alcoholic punch we’d concocted from various orchard fruits, although Kirin had seen most of it off already. We clinked glasses and toasted ourselves.

We were interrupted by the rusty-sounding clang of the very underused front gate bell. We stared at each other in wild surmise. We weren’t expecting any more guests.

“Do you think Leia will get that?” wondered Phasma.

“I guess. It’s not dangerous for her, since it’s technically her house anyway.”

But I sat, tense and silent, waiting for news.

It didn’t take long to arrive.

“We have an extra guest,” said Leia, ushering the new arrival into the room.

“Tessia!” I was speechless for a moment, rising to my feet and staring at her in wonder. “I thought…”

“I know what I said,” she replied, stepping further into the room. “And I still more or less stand by it. But it’s you…and Kirin…I couldn’t stay away in the end.”

We embraced and I did my best not to ruin my mascara, although it was the tear-proof variety, so perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered.

“I’m so glad,” I said. “So glad you changed your mind. I’ve missed you so much – we both have.”

“I won’t let him take you away from me,” she said fiercely, then, “Oh, mind the bump.”

“Bump?” I stood back, and it was true. The perennially svelte and elegant Tessia had a stomach bulge. “No! You’re…?”

“Due in four months time,” she said, smoothing her hand over her crimson crepe-covered swelling.

“Oh lord!” We embraced again.

Phasma took a step back. “Perhaps I should get out of here. It’s not contagious, is it?”

“You’ll have to ask Ben about that,” I said, grinning at her over my shoulder. “Though I imagine any child of yours definitely _would_ grow up to rule the galaxy.”

“I have no plans whatsoever to reproduce,” muttered Phasma, busying herself with tidying away the hair products.

I turned back to Tessia. “So…now I have two maids of honour.”

“Oh, I don’t want a ceremonial role,” said Tessia. “My plan is to lurk in the background, somewhere Hux can’t see me.”

“No Timonn?”

“No.” She chewed her lip. “It wouldn’t be fair to him…”

She had a point. Going to the wedding of the man who kept your wife as a concubine for six years of her life might stick in the craw a bit.

“We do need a chief bucket carrier,” mentioned Phasma.

“What?” Tessia frowned with incomprehension.

“Just…a bit nauseous,” I said.

“Nerves, or…?” Tessia didn’t need my reply. “Oh sweet Sith! How far along?”

“No more than about eight weeks,” I said, minding her bump again for the second embrace.

“You certainly _were_ busy while you were away,” she commented, and I imagined my flush contrasted brilliantly with the white floatiness of my dress.

“Hmm,” I said.

Kirin rushed into the room, buttonhole now in place, which was more than could be said for his hair, which seemed to have escaped its gelled-down confinement.

“Daddy says where are you, are you ever coming, the rose arch will be dead if you leave it much longer,” he reported.

“Is he out there already?” I stepped back from Tessia and had a last-minute panic in front of the mirror.

“Ages ago,” said Kirin.

“We’d better get out there then,” said Phasma, and Kirin whooped with joy as she lifted him on to her shoulders and stated her intention of processing along the aisle with him in situ.

Tessia handed me my bouquet and gave me a last kiss on the cheek for good luck.

“I hope you’ll be happy,” she whispered, before flitting out ahead of me.

I gripped the flower stems for grim death. This was it. Second time around, and I had none of the grinding dread I recalled from my first walk down the aisle. Nervous excitement had taken its place; a much more palatable sensation.

With Phasma and Kirin at my side, I stepped out into the golden sunshine. Ahead, I saw the rose arch. I had to assume General Organa was standing somewhere behind Ben and Hux, who would be towering over her, their backs to me. Hux was wearing some kind of amazing embroidered coat with gold and silver threads that caught the sun. I think Ben must have lent it to him, because it was slightly too big for him, a hazard of getting married at such short notice. Ben himself was in sober inky blue, handsome and smart. It was hard to imagine that this was the menacing masked apparition who’d swept around Starkiller leaving havoc in his wake.

As we drew nearer, Kirin’s giggling caused both men to turn and look at us. Phasma dropped down and let Kirin climb off her shoulders to stand beside Ben, while Hux reserved all his attention for me. He looked as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and it brought a lump to my throat, earlier than I’d bargained for. He put out his hand and drew me gently beside him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered into my ear. Our hands clasped, although they weren’t meant to until later in the ceremony, and stayed that way throughout.

“Ladies and gentlemen – and _young_ gentlemen,” said Leia, looking over her spectacles at Kirin, who jumped up and down at the formal acknowledgement. “We are here today to bring together two people who have made the decision to spend their lives with each other. This is both a legal formality and a celebration, and I’m sure we all wish them well.”

I flicked my eyes over to Tessia, who was keeping out of Hux’s line of vision. We’d had a massive row over my determination to invite her – one of a handful of disagreements we’d had since settling here, but by far the biggest. He’d been relieved, if not irritatingly triumphant, when she’d declined. I wondered if her presence would shadow the day for him.

I dismissed the thought, turning to the solemn exchange of vows, concentrating on getting through it without any embarrassing gaffes. It all felt far away and strange; the only thing that struck me as real was the solid warmth of Hux’s hand over mine. Even my voice sounded weird and unlike my own. Hux sounded like Hux, though, reciting the vows with level confidence.

Once the last promise had died away and the rings were exchanged, I felt as if I’d crossed the finish line in a race. The tension lifted from me as soon as Leia spoke the magic words and we were allowed to kiss. I swooned into him, breathing in his fragrance, letting the tissue-light fabrics of our garments whisper together. Now we were joined and could not be put asunder. At least, that was the theory.

“I’ve got you at last,” breathed Hux, his lips still millimetres from mine. His fingers landed on the back of my neck and with a tiny click the choker broke open, to be gathered in his hand and stowed in a pocket.

I dropped the bouquet and flung an arm around his neck, hanging on to him and moving in for more, deeper kisses while the small gathering of our well-wishers laughed indulgently, and then a little awkwardly.

“Are you going to show me the pool, Kirin?” said Phasma loudly, and then I thought perhaps we ought to break it up.

A table was set with a white cloth and some silverware I’d spent the best part of the last week restoring to full high shine, in the centre of the terrace, beneath a shady gazebo. We walked towards it, accepting congratulations from our guests on the way.

When Tessia offered hers, Hux’s arm tightened around me, but he accepted them with formal politeness and said no more.

“So she came,” he murmured to me, as we took our seats.

“She’s my best friend,” I whispered back. “You aren’t angry, are you?”

“Not today,” he said, with a light sigh. “Nothing is going to make me angry today.”

The meal had been ordered from Leia’s favourite caterers, and it was spectacular, so the conversation at the table flowed easily from that starting point and moved over the subjects of our renovations to the house, our future plans, Ben’s ideas for his Jedi school and anecdotes from the D’Qar base. I felt lightheaded and as fizzy as the champagne everyone but me and Tessia was drinking, although I had half a glass for the toast. I couldn’t quite get hold of the idea that I was married.

When Hux tapped a teaspoon against his champagne flute, I hissed, “We’re not doing speeches, are we?”

He shook his head. “Only me,” he whispered back.

I guess he missed his speeches.

He rose to his feet, taking time to ensure his captive audience hung on his next words.

“First of all,” he said, “my wife and I would like to thank you all for coming.”

There was a little patter of applause at the ‘my wife and I’ bit, and I felt even weirder. I was a _wife_?

“This day has been a long time in the making for us,” he continued, “and for years, neither of us thought it would ever come. But it has, and we are here, with our son and our closest friends. After all we have experienced, very simple things seem like great privileges, and this day is the greatest of them all.”

There was a kind of ‘aw, that’s nice’ flutter among the guests. I stared into my empty glass, concentrating on keeping my facial muscles still.

“But what I really want to do is to pay tribute to Marillia. When I sought her out, I didn’t expect a second chance to be so readily given. I expected bitterness, resentment, anger and perhaps a black eye.” Muted laughter. “But she astonished me by giving instead forgiveness, faith and love. It is so much more than I deserve, and I intend to spend the rest of my life aspiring to be worthy of her.”

_Shut up_. My muscles were twitching. My throat was thickening.

“I knew she was love of my life even before I understood what love was – and now she has showed me, that knowledge is more secure than ever. In more ways than one, she set me free, and I feel like the luckiest man alive. Please join in me in raising a glass to my beautiful bride, Marillia.”

“Marillia,” said the guests, arms aloft. I jabbed Hux in the elbow. “Stop making me cry,” I muttered, but it was too late, and I smudged mascara all over my handkerchief.

He laughed, slid an arm around me and kissed all my lipstick off.

We broke off when Kirin banged his cup on the table.

“I want to make a speech now,” he proclaimed.

“Oh? I’d love to hear it,” I said.

“Yes, it’s this: can I leave the table? And go in the pool?”

Everyone laughed and Hux extended an arm towards the pool.

“I now declare this wedding reception pool party officially open,” he said.

Kirin leapt up and began throwing off his irksome outfit. I’d known he wouldn’t look that pristine for long, but I shook my head.

“Did everyone bring costumes?” I asked, but Leia Organa was already stripped down to her gold bikini, and the others didn’t seem to be taking long in transforming themselves.

“I’ll need to get myself out of this dress,” I said, turning towards the house. “I won’t be long.”

Hux took my elbow, marching me across the terrace.

“Nobody,” he said sternly, “is getting you out of that dress but me. And saying you wouldn’t be long was very rash indeed.”

Halfway across the flagstones, he lifted me up into his arms, making me squeal. A distant cheer went up behind us, accompanied by a piercing wolf whistle from Phasma, and I wanted to hide away, mortified and exhilarated at the same time.

“But we’ve got guests,” I said.

“We’ve got babysitters,” he corrected. “And I suspect they’ll be only to happy to give us an hour to ourselves.”

“Wil…”

But I knew there was no point protesting, and besides, my attempt would be less than half-hearted. Quarter-hearted, maybe, or even eighth-hearted.

He dropped me in a heap of white tulle on the bed and stood over me, arms behind his back, eyes glinting.

“Do you remember when this used to be a simple bed?” he asked.

“What is it now then?” I retorted, propping myself up on my elbows.

“The _marital_ bed,” he said. He threw off the embroidered coat and stood in a silk tunic, tight trousers, knee-high boots and a sash around the waist, looking uncharacteristically buccaneering and raffish. And very, very hot.

“Mm,” I couldn’t help saying.

He smiled. “Like what you see? So do I.” His eyes travelled from my cleavage down. “Very much.”

He bent to grab my hands and pull me back to my feet.

“But it has to come off,” he murmured into my ear. His fingers were already at their deft work on the back buttons of my bodice. His fingertips drifted down my spine, catching on the clasp of my strapless bra. “And this too.” He unhooked it, then continued with the buttons, so that when my gown dropped over my waist and puffed to the floor, my bra went with it.

He ran his hand over my rear cheeks in their scanty white silk knickers, growling with satisfaction as he pressed his mouth to mine.

I tilted back my neck and opened up to him, a flexible wand in his arms for him to bend and shape however he wanted. A real movie-star kiss, although they usually had more clothes on in the movies.

“Do you remember when this was just sex?” he whispered, breaking off to nudge me back on to the bed and lay me down in his arms.

“It was never just sex,” I said, wrapping a silk-stockinged leg around his hip.

“No, that’s true, but it’s even more than that now. It’s the consummation of our marriage.”

“Then let’s consume,” I whispered back.

And that’s what we did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...one more chapter and then I'm done.


	25. Chapter 25

**~ FIVE YEARS LATER ~**

There was a spectacular sunset – what Kirin calls an ‘Endorian egg yolk special’ – over the hills that night and the compound was washed in orange-red light as I steered my hover-pod up the winding mountain path. It was the colour of Hux’s hair, not to mention the kids’, and I wondered if this new baby would be the same, or if I’d finally get a child who looked a bit like me.

I changed gear awkwardly, swearing under my breath as the pod hopped towards the gate. The thing was new – a shiny toy, really. I should have gone for a more sedate model, but General Organa had just paid Hux megacredits for his latest hazard simulation model and we were feeling flush. What with that and my flourishing freelance career, we were enjoying a comfortable lifestyle, and building up a tidy inheritance for the children to boot.

The only shadow over our lives was the necessary secrecy surrounding Hux’s existence. It was a strain on us, and sometimes it told, but it was better than the alternative. The children used our fake surname and told everyone they lived with their eccentric mother who forbade visitors to the house. I constantly expected them to slip, but I suppose in a way it was like being bilingual – you knew which words belonged to which languages. And we were all good at languages.

I parked the pod and fired up my wrist comm to check my messages.

One from Tessia: Was it all right to bring the kids over to visit next weekend?

A definite yes. Suka in particular loved playing with Tessia’s children and, even though Josca was too young to really care, it was good for him to see that other toddlers existed.

One from Phasma: The grand inauguration of Ben’s Jedi training school had been organised for next month. Obviously Hux couldn’t be on the guest list, but did I want to attend?

Hm, wasn’t sure about that one. Social events outside our home always led to too many questions. I batted them off by going into insanely tedious detail about my work, usually, but it was uncomfortable all the same. Regretfully, I would decline, but invite them to visit us instead.

One from Hux: When are you back?

Typically terse. I smiled at it and wondered if he’d ever learn that I didn’t check my messages when I was driving, or at the hospital getting scanned.

Finally, one from General Organa, which I hadn’t been expecting: Contact me as soon as you can, please.

I frowned, a little stab of anxiety sending anxiety blood-droplets down from my chest to my stomach. What kind of urgent thing could she have to tell me? It couldn’t be good. Somebody had learned that Hux still lived. We were under threat.

I climbed out of the pod and saw Hux coming to meet me along the driveway. He was barefoot – he hardly ever wore shoes any more, except the shiny black boots he sometimes wore for, ahem, special purposes – and the pink tone of his cheeks and forehead revealed that he hadn’t been reapplying his sunscreen often enough. His forearms were a riot of freckles.

“Well?” he said, once he was within earshot.

In my preoccupation with Leia’s cryptic message, I’d all but forgotten the purpose of my day trip.

“Oh! Another girl,” I said.

He laughed and pulled me into his arms.

“Two of each,” he said. “Now you and Suka aren’t outnumbered any more. All well and healthy, I hope?”

“Everything intact, no problems,” I said.

“Let’s just hope she’s not in such a tearing hurry as Josca was,” he said. “I’m not sure my midwifery skills are up to it.”

I snorted, remembering. It was lucky Tessia, who had retrained as a surgical nurse at the Zyron teaching hospital, had been visiting at the time. She had delivered Josca herself, in our bedroom, once it was clear a trip to the hospital would take too long.

“You must be hungry,” he said. “Go and sit on the terrace and I’ll have Foo-ren bring you some supper.”

Foo-ren was a domestic droid Hux had built from scratch, with Kirin’s assistance, a couple of years back – the result of my throwing an epic tantrum when I was expecting Josca and too tired to cook different meals for everyone’s varying dietary requirements. The droid’s full name was FU-REN-U-ASS, but obviously we couldn’t call it that in front of the children.

“Where are the offspring?” I asked, heading towards the terrace.

“Suka and Josca are in bed. Kirin’s testing out that hover-boat we’ve been building in the pool.”

I waited until the droid had brought food and drink, and Hux was sitting with me, before mentioning Leia’s message.

“Oh, she contacted me too,” he said. “But I told her you were at the hospital. She wouldn’t say what it was about, but it did sound urgent.”

I let out a breath. If it was danger, she would have spoken to Hux.

So what in the galaxy could it be?

“Should I eat first or should I get straight on to her?” I wondered aloud, the tightness of my stomach giving me my answer. “Oh, she kicked me again!”

“Where?” Hux put his hand on my rounded belly, feeling for the assault of a tiny foot or fist, but apparently she didn’t want to play ball. “Eat first,” he said. “She might be trying to tell you she’s hungry.”

“I haven’t had anything since a horrible soup in the hospital canteen. You could be right.”

I forced down a few mouthfuls of fish stew, then pushed it aside.

“It’s no good. I can’t do anything till I know what Leia wants.”

Hux handed me his datapad. “Use this, the picture’s better. Did I tell you she’s commissioned another sim from me? A biohazard disaster this time. It’ll take months of planning.”

“You love it,” I said absently, entering the comm code for General Organa’s private reg.

“It’ll keep me busy,” he agreed. “Which is good.”

“Definitely.” A bored Hux was an utterly insufferable Hux, I had come to find. He needed projects, and he needed an important role, or he turned his attentions to micro-managing the rest of us. “OK. I’m connected.”

I looked up at him, chewing my lip.

“Don’t look so scared,” he said. “If it was anything terrible, she’d have warned me.”

“I know.”

There was a click, and Leia’s face appeared on the screen, with a fork halfway to her mouth.

“Marillia, hi, thanks for getting back to me. You were a long time at the hospital – not bad news, I hope?”

“No, just a routine scan. The new baby.”

“Kriff, _another_ one? One labour was enough for me. That was one of the many things Han and I could never agree on – he always wanted more kids. Sorry I’m eating – you’ve caught me at supper.”

“Oh, me too,” I said hurriedly. “Didn’t want to wait, though. What did you want to tell me?”

“OK, you’re sitting down. Is that husband of yours nearby?”

“Yes, he’s here.” My heart began thumping hard.

“Good. This might come as a shock to you, but don’t worry, it’s nothing bad.”

“Just…” I muttered urgently, and she took my hint.

“I sent a squad to the Outer Rim recently, to back up Law Enforcement in clearing up some organised crime that was going on out there. Quite a few planets were being used for illegal mining activity, mostly firegems. We found a huge colony of people being kept as slaves for this purpose. Nearly all of them had been abducted in raids, going back ten, twenty, even thirty years.”

I gripped my knife and fork so hard I dug half-moons into my palms. My vocal cords had seized up so I couldn’t say what I wanted to say, and besides, what if the answer to my question wasn’t what I wanted to hear? I let Leia continue.

“They were taken to a refugee centre to be identified and processed. There were a lot of them, so it took a while, but it’s all done now and I’ve seen the list of names. And on that list, Marillia…I bet you can guess…”

I nodded jerkily, but I still couldn’t speak.

“Kirin and Suka Rome, from Kusa B.” she said softly.

“Oh!” My voice emerged at last, in a sob. I dropped the knife and fork with a clatter, and Hux pulled his chair close to me, holding me tight while I shook in his arms. “Oh, Sith. Are you sure?”

I wiped the spilling tears from my eyes with a trembling hand.

“I’m very sure, Marillia, because they’re here on D’Qar.”

“You’ve seen them!”

“They’re right with me, here at the table,” she said. “Do you want to speak to them?”

“Of course! Of course I do. Oh, lord, I don’t believe this. I just can’t believe it.”

Leia adjusted her lens so that two other people stared into it. Two people quite different from the ones I remembered – smaller, somehow, and shrivelled, with a darkness in their eyes I’d never seen before – yet they were undoubtedly my parents.

“Mum,” I gasped. “Dad. It’s you. Oh lord, it’s really you.”

My mum put her hand over her mouth, her eyes shining with tears, but dad leaned towards the screen and smiled, showing how many teeth he’d lost since last I saw him.

“Oh, love,” he said. “I never thought I’d see you again. Look how lovely you are, all grown up. Princess Leia’s told us all about you, and we’re so, so proud of you.”

That was too much for me, and I broke down in earnest, soaking Hux’s shirt with my overflowing eyes.

“And we’ve got a son-in-law,” said Dad. “And grandchildren. And our life back at last.”

“It’s an honour to finally speak to you,” said Hux, taking up my sobbing slack. “I hope we will be able to meet in the flesh very soon.”

“Yes, yes,” I managed to add, flapping my hands. “Come and stay.”

There were many more tears and promises and expressions of amazement and generally emotional stuff, until a curious Kirin was drawn up on to the terrace, to be told for the second time in his life that he had some relatives he’d never met.

In this case, though, he knew all about them, because I’d told him every single scrap of story about them that my memory held.

“Oh, you’re Grandad Rome that went over the Zahna Falls in a barrel that time?”

My dad wheezed with delight. “That’s me. I’ll do it again before I die too.”

“I’ll go with you!”

“You will not!” said Hux and I in chorus, and at last there was laughter too.

                                                                ~ **One Year Later** ~

Kirin’s eleventh birthday party had been a festive affair. Mum had got Suka and Josca to help her with the decorations, which included her famous flower-lanterns and an enormous firework fountain in the middle of the pool. Dad had provided entertainment in the form of the magic tricks he used to show me as a child, then Ben had effortlessly outdone him with a display of ‘the fun side of the Force’.

“So now Kirin wants to be a Jedi,” I sighed, looking over the terrace balcony while Hux stood behind me, clasping his arms around me with his chin on my shoulder.

“No chance of that,” he said. “I have _tried_ to explain…”

“It was worth it, just to see the look on your mother’s face when he suggested it, though.”

Hux sucked in a breath. “Dear me, yes. But then, she hasn’t got over the fact that we didn’t send him to Elite One.”

I sighed, staring dreamily into the starscape.

“What about those pre-test results that came today? For Zyron Institute?”

I felt Hux’s chest rise and fall against my back.

“What do you think?”

“Well…” I said haltingly. “Clearly he’s bright enough. And it’s the best school in this section of the galaxy. Plus he really needs to be around other kids now, especially other kids on his wavelength…”

“But?” said Hux. “No, I know what the ‘but’ is.”

“I can’t send him away,” I whispered.

“You know there’s another intake at sixteen?” said Hux. “Then another at nineteen.”

“I know that,” I said. “But he’s so desperate to go next year…”

“Well, I’ve told you my thoughts,” said Hux stoutly. “I think he should go. He’s old enough, and bored enough, and he needs a bit of competition - a bit of grit to polish the pearl of his intellect. And it’s not as if we’ll never see him. There seems to be a vacation every five minutes.”

“And they encourage parental visits,” I said, catching myself after the words came out. “Sorry. I know you can’t…”

“But you can,” he said, putting his hands on my shoulders and rubbing them until I threw back my head and purred. He put one hand on my stomach, and this time a tiny foot made a jab at his palm.

“She has an opinion,” I said, smiling.

“Like her mother,” said Hux. “Too many opinions at times.”

I pushed a heel back against his shin in protest, then yelped as he pushed my legs into the balustrade with his own, imprisoning me between the terracotta stone and his body.

“I’m entitled to them,” I gasped, my blood fired up by his sudden forceful physicality.

“And I’m entitled to you,” he whispered into my ear, making me squirm. “This house has been full of people all day, and I haven’t had a chance to get anywhere near you. Until now.”

He chuckled darkly and bent to draw up the hem of my dress.

“Wil! We’re out in the open. What if someone comes out?”

“They’ve all gone to bed,” he said, getting the skirts to my waist and pushing eager fingers inside my knickers. He bent his mouth to the back of my neck and kissed the sensitive skin hard and hungrily. “Besides, if anyone does come out, they’ll soon think better of it…”

I heard the clink and shush of belts and trousers going south.

“The children…” I said, but much less sharply. In fact, it came out as a shaky breath, now Hux had two fingers inside me and his lips on that under-ear spot that always melted me. So unfair.

“Your parents are in the room next to the nursery. The little ones can’t do anything without waking them. Kirin will be pestering Ben about the Force until dawn. Put your hands on the ledge, lean forward a little, that’s it.”

His hands were all over me, investigating every curve they could find, and at this stage of pregnancy, there were a lot.

“Sweet Sith,” he hissed, running his palm over my growing bump. “I have to have you. Open those legs, now.”

I cried out as he entered me, shoving my knickers unceremoniously to one side, and he put a hand over my mouth until he was all the way up. The height differential made things a little awkward, but he managed to find an angle that worked without squashing the bump into the balustrade.

He set a slow, easy pace, taking plenty of time to explore me with fingers and tongue. I was caught up in it straight away, no longer concerned about discovery, finding my worries replaced by the thrill of giving myself up to him wherever and whenever he wanted me. The years had done nothing to diminish our hunger for each other; if ever, it became keener, and when I was pregnant, Hux was – as he had promised – like a man possessed. Or possessing.

“Have you been waiting for this?” he asked me, thrusting harder.

“Yes,” I whimpered, keeping my hands braced against the ledge, my legs trembling under the increased force.

“I certainly have. All day. Every time I looked at you…thinking of how I was going to get into you…I nearly followed you into the kitchen when you went to get the cake so I could bend you over a chair…but there wasn’t time…uh…oh…Marillia…”

He had located my sweetest spot – he was _so good_ at that now – and my lower body began to quake in the anticipation of what was to come. I pushed myself back, urging him on, the cry starting low in my throat. He put his hand over my mouth again and I tasted salty skin as I wailed into the creases of his palm, giving my pleasure to him, the man who owned it.

He paid me back with pleasure of his own, filling me up before pulling out and resting his damp forehead between my shoulder blades.

“I keep wondering if I’ll get enough of you one day,” he panted. “But I don’t think I will.”

“I hope you don’t,” I said, letting my skirts fall, crumpled, back to my ankles, hiding the coated state of my thighs. I turned to face him and we held on to each other, as much to avoid falling down as anything else, until the ground stilled beneath our feet. “Because I know I’ll never have enough of you.”

We stood like that, in each others arms, underneath the star-scattered sky, hearts beating together, until the distant sound of Josca waking from a nightmare drew us back into our home.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's them sorted then. Scene fades to P J Harvey's 'One Line'. Thanks for reading, those of you that are left after 50 chapters of this, and especially thanks to everyone who commented. Makes it all worth while. *bunch of flowers emoji*
> 
> Now I'm left wondering what to do next. I had thought about some companion pieces - scenes that Marillia never saw e.g. Hux's reaction to her leaving Starkiller/ a sketch of his earlier relationship with Tessia/ the answer to that rumour about him and his instructor at the Academy. 
> 
> Or I could just forge ahead with something new (got something half-written in my head already).
> 
> I would REALLY value your opinions on this, so don't be shy and state your preferences (or tell me to do something more productive with my spare time instead :D).


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